


A Princess and a Guy Like Him

by Erma



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Panic, Slow Beginnings, Sometimes He's All Right, They Lived Happily Ever After (Eventually), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erma/pseuds/Erma
Summary: 0.1 ABY (6 Weeks After the Battle of Yavin). The Falcon’s crew ferries the Princess to discussions aimed at securing additional resources for the struggling Alliance. Like the crucible of the Death Star, this relatively quiet mission forces Han and Leia to confront both themselves and each other, leading to the forging of something new: friendship. (Originally posted on FFN on Jan. 30, 2021.)
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	1. Departing Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Wow. This story has been in the works for three long years... I can't quite believe it's finally done…
> 
> To all those who write multi-chapter fics, and those who write them _routinely_... ALL the respect!
> 
> THANK YOU to JustineGraham, for first guiding me to capture a single nugget from a sprawling array of ideas. THANK YOU to both JustineGraham and ErinDarroch, who reviewed early drafts, redirected me when things veered off track, and offered kind words of encouragement. And, most definitely, THANK YOU to StarryEyedGalathynius... she is a jewel indeed. Like a master gardener she tamed this wily and gnarly thing: pruning where needed, waiting for new growth to fill in, and guiding it to its full, final shape. And, like a wise gardener with an abundance of good humor, she accepted with a laugh those parts where nature (aka me, ha!) was unruly and refused to be tamed. StarryEyedGalathynius, my dear friend— _thank you!!!_
> 
> Finally... This story took root in the soil of grief. But that soil, as dark as it is, is also rich. So to anyone who might need to hear this: if you find yourself with that same dark, rich soil—stay with it. Look after it with tenderness, love, and care... and may you eventually find yourself in a peaceful, beautiful garden.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-  


**A Princess and a Guy Like Him**

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**6 Weeks After the Battle of Yavin**

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

_How does one even begin to grapple with loss as catastrophic as that of Alderaan? Can the impact truly be grasped in the single, searing moment of total destruction? Or is it only over time—through unexpected interruptions of previously insignificant activities—that the profundity and depth of loss is perceived? ... turning to the local section of a news feed only to find “error: news source not found”... reaching out to place a call to your mother or father then stopping half-way, realizing there will be no answer… And when you are still expected to show up, carry on, do your work, be a leader—can you even afford to grieve? Dare you risk it?_

\------------------------

_How does one come to be a regular in a wretched hive of scum and villainy? Though one’s true nature may appear briefly in moments of crisis, what may have happened to obscure that nature to begin with? What experiences might have resulted in becoming the favored hire of a despicable crime-lord, or in the fall from the crime-lord’s grace? In being at ease in environments cracking in the desiccated air of poverty? In being willing to risk one’s life in the depths of a superweapon for the chance to earn a small fortune? When finally face to face with wealth or good deeds, what lack of experiences might render your sensors inoperative and your instincts useless? And when your vulnerability reveals itself and you stumble—who will catch you? Will you let them?_

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 1:  
Departing for Dansend**

****

****

**0900 hours**

The Millennium Falcon sat on the hangar bay floor of the marginally occupied Yavin IV base, warmed and ready for takeoff. Han Solo and Chewbacca had been waiting in the cockpit for nearly an hour—well before their scheduled departure time twenty minutes ago—but their passenger had yet to arrive. 

Leia was late.

Han was fighting to contain his irritation. It didn’t matter that Leia had sent a brief message saying she’d be late, and he knew the twenty-minute delay wasn’t going to make a big difference anyways. No: this was a matter of principle. He may not be running a first-rate operation, and he may not be high-class like their royal passenger, but even he knew the importance of arriving on time; he hadn’t survived as long as he had by expecting others to wait for him. 

Still, principles or no principles, this was a paying job and with the hope of more jobs in the future, both he and Chewie knew they’d better keep their frustration from spilling over. So, they continued to wait, with as much patience as they could muster.

With nothing but time to spare, they had repeated their pre-flight checklists for a third time, then moved on to prioritizing a list of repair projects. The hyperspace journey to Dansend would take around seventy-two standard hours, and Chewie would have additional days waiting in port while Han, acting as a sort of security detail, accompanied Leia to her negotiations with her contact. This gave Han and Chewie plenty of time to finally get to projects long left on the backburner. 

Han’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at his copilot. “We’ve waited on this for weeks. We could start first thing tomorrow.”

 _[The access panel is on the support wall outside of the bunk room]_ Chewie replied calmly.

“Yeah, so?”

_[It will wake her.]_

Han paused. “Her.”

_[Yes.]_

“Leia?”

Chewie tilted his head. _[Is there another princess around here?]_

Han snorted, glancing away briefly. “You never worry about waking me up.”

Chewie shrugged. _[I like her.]_

“Her?”

_[I believe we’ve covered this.]_

Han pursed his lips, amused despite himself, before continuing. “She called you a carpet, you know.”

Chewie nodded. _[Well. Carpet is a luxury. I take it as a compliment.]_

“Don’t think she meant it as a compliment, pal.” 

A bark of laughter rang through the cockpit. _[Of course not. But she did take the time to insult me while trying to escape from the depths of the enemy’s lair. I like her.]_

A flash of white outside the viewscreen caught their attention, saving Chewie from Han’s retort about his perspective on human females, and they turned to watch as Leia approached the ship, moving briskly through the cavernous hangar bay. Yet as she neared the foot of the ramp, she came to a slow stop, turning to face away from the ship as if waiting for something. 

The contrast between Leia’s appearance and her surrounding environment was striking. Her clothing and gear were utilitarian enough for a military base: a form-fitting, standard-issue uniform of trousers, tunic, boots, and utility vest, each piece a different but coordinating shade of white, with a plain traveling bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair was arranged in a simple way, her braids wrapped neatly into a functional style. And yet, with her posture straight and balanced as it had been at the medal ceremony mere weeks ago—her chin held just a bit too high to be comfortable and her body as still as a statue—she looked detached, and distant. Regal. Refined.

Han’s simmering irritation heated to a roiling boil. He and Chewie were among the handful of beings who had ever seen the princess looking _un_ refined. He had seen her hair sticking out in all directions from her usual precise and tidy updo. He had seen her pristine clothing covered in grease and grime, and had suffered for hours from the smell of garbage water that clung to the fabric. With most other people, a shared experience like their dramatic escape from the Death Star would have led to a little humility, a little bit of relaxed, friendly-like interactions. Not with her, apparently. He had seen her angry, determined, fired up and passionate. But here, at the Falcon’s ramp, after everything that had happened—even after weeks of the occasional casual greeting around base—she had the gall to forget all of that and— 

_[Doesn’t she know she can just come in?]_ Chewie finally asked.

“All I know is she’s late,” he said, rolling his eyes and rising from his seat. “I’ll go get her.”

The sound of boots striking metal reverberated in the empty space around the ship as Han descended the ramp. Turning to face him, Leia’s expression was composed, as if sculpted from marble. “Captain Solo, I trust we are ready for takeoff?”

Han’s irritation boiled over. Stopping at the base of the ramp, he shifted his weight to one leg and hooked a thumb in the belt of his holster. “Why yes, _Your Highness_. We’ve been ready for the past hour.” 

She paused. “I apologize,” she then said, without any further reaction. “I was finalizing an administrative matter before we departed.”

“You mean you didn’t have everything finished all nice and tidy-like already?”

At that, Leia’s eyes flashed hot while her marble facade remained cool. “Perhaps you should pay closer attention to mission details, _Captain_. The fuel taxes and landing fees at Depryvet spaceport were just increased again. I decided to update the mission budget before departing to reflect this change, in order to ensure that your compensation for this mission would remain as we agreed.” 

Han blinked, trying to cover his surprise. People usually tried to short-change him, not… not… Not knowing how to reply, he chose instead to ignore it. He motioned to her bag. “Got everything?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Stepping to one side, Han gestured up the ramp. “After you.” 

Shooting him a withering look and without a single word, she proceeded past him up the ramp and into the ship. After a final check around their landing pad, Han followed her through the hatch. 

As the ramp closed behind him, Han was surprised to find her just a few steps along the corridor, her back to him, her posture once again stiff and regal. Something wasn’t adding up. He knew damned well she knew her way around the ship, yet here she stood, looking down the corridor as if she didn’t know where to go. 

He moved to walk past her, gesturing down the corridor in the direction of his bunk room. “So, same as last time—”

Leia’s head whipped towards him, her lips parted, her eyes wide as moons. In the harsh lighting of the Falcon’s corridor, her face was nearly as pale as her uniform.

Han froze. “You all right?”

Leia closed her mouth and swallowed, rapidly blinking her eyes back down to size. “Yes, yes of course, I…” Turning away from him, she directed her gaze back towards the far end of the corridor. “I was just wondering about the sleeping arrangements. Where I should put my things.”

Han paused, wary and cautious. Leia was clearly trying to cover—well, trying to cover whatever it was that just happened. And it was a lousy cover, too. But hey, if she wanted to keep up appearances, he’d play along. They were going to be stuck together in hyperspace for three days, after all; best for everyone if feathers, fur, and hair were left unruffled. 

“Yeah. So,” Han continued, picking up where he had left off without further comment, “same as before, you can take my bunk for the whole trip. Everything’s ready for you. Just make yourself at home.”

Leia was silent for a moment before quietly responding. “Same as before,” she nodded. “Thank you, Captain,” she said, then without a second glance she walked down the corridor in the direction of the bunkroom.

Chewie eyed his friend as Han resumed his place in the pilot's chair. _[Everything ready?]_

Han nodded his head, his gaze unfocused. “Yeah, fine. Her Worship’s on board and getting settled.”

_[But…?]_

“I dunno, pal.” Han paused. “She was kinda… strange.”

Chewie was quiet for a moment. _[This is her first time back on board.]_

“What?”

Chewie regarded his friend silently. _[It is her first time on board this ship since the Death Star. This could be a difficult trip for her. You know how it goes.]_

Han’s jaw tightened as he straightened up in his seat, returning his focus to the ship’s controls. “Yeah, well, however it goes, we got a job to do here. Let’s just do what we need to do, earn our credits, then move onto the next job.”

**2200 hours**

Lying on her side, Leia stared at the blank wall, trying to force herself to sleep. It was true there had been a last-minute budgeting issue regarding Han’s payment, but that had only been part of her delay. Frankly and quite uncharacteristically, she had simply been dragging her feet. She had had her reservations about this mission since the logistical issues were first—no, that wasn't it. She had had her reservations about going on this mission _on the Falcon_. Of course, circumstances had prevented other options, so she had tried to accept with grace the single reasonable transportation option. Yet clearly, her reservations lingered. As much as she wanted to travel to Dansend and meet with Lady Eldera and as much as she knew the Alliance would benefit from the support of Dansend, she just didn't want... well, she just didn't want to go on the Falcon.

With a huff she flipped onto her back and glared up at the ceiling above the bunk. All day long she had tried to focus on her work only to be repeatedly interrupted, either by the intermittent sounds of the Falcon or by Han telling her to help herself to the ship’s food stores whenever she liked. And now, even though she was simply trying to fall asleep, she was _still_ impossibly distracted by the unfamiliar sounds of her surroundings. Every little whoosh of the air handling system, every ding of a metal panel, and every beep of an electrical system startled her to a state of alertness, reminding her of the last time she had been on the ship, when it had sped away from the Death Star, away from the scene of a horrific crime, away from Alderaan—

Leia inhaled sharply, driving her thoughts in a new direction. 

It was this ship. This damned ship, this rickety old bucket of bolts, was just getting to her. The Captain and his Wookiee companion were certainly skilled pilots, so she didn’t understand why they would want to continue flying this piece of junk. She knew they were not well off, and that they may not be in the position to afford the latest model of freighter, but surely they could get something in better condition than this old YT-1300? It was about to fall apart, she was certain of that. She could _hear_ it. The ship was even noisier now than it was the last time she had been on it. Though of course, the last time she was on the ship, she may have been too exhausted to fully notice its many noises, having just escaped from captivity, endless days lost in time, marked only by the regular sessions with Vader—

Clenching her jaw, she forced her eyes back to the ceiling, counting the seams in the tiles. _Focus, Organa. Focus._

She wondered if Han and Chewie held the ship together by sheer force of will. They were a formidable duo, those two, clearly capable and resourceful, they were no doubt as adept in the other skills necessary for their trade as they were in piloting—if smuggling could even be considered a trade—

_Leia!_

Her mother’s admonishing tone echoed in her mind—

She gasped, throwing herself back onto her side, reaching desperately for her datapad. The current assets report. She hadn’t triple checked that yet. If she couldn’t sleep she could at least review the report again, make absolutely sure there were no errors in the calculations. 

She just needed to work…

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	2. Triggered

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

_When the devastation of loss occurs, can the true depth of that loss be fully grasped in the moment? Or is it only processed over time, as the daily realities of the loss are encountered? When you have to be there for others, who will be there for you?_

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

****

**Mission Day 2:  
En Route to Dansend**

****

****

**2200 hours**

“Ha!” Pixelated warriors broke through a pixelated blockade and a pixelated victory banner scrolled across Han’s screen. Proud to have unlocked the new level in his new favorite game, he switched off his datapad, setting it down on the dejarik table next to his empty whisky glass. Stretching his legs out in front of him he leaned back against the couch, his hands resting casually on his stomach.

It had been a pretty quiet day. He and Chewie had started on the first repair project on their list, one they’d been wanting to tackle for awhile, and it took the entire day. Leia, meanwhile, had pretty much stuck to the bunk room, just like yesterday, save for a few minutes around meal times when she came out to grab something to eat. Now that Han wasn’t elbow-deep in circuitry and ship parts and could let his mind wander, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her self-imposed isolation.

When she had first traveled on his ship, en route to Yavin, she had spent as much time out in the hold with the rest of them as she had spent in the bunk room. In comparison to that trip, her absence the last couple of days felt different. Did she like Luke better? Or maybe this was a Princessy thing, staying holed up in your quarters away from the common people. 

Or, maybe Chewie was right: maybe it was just tough being back on the Falcon. 

Han shifted on the couch but couldn’t shake a growing, gnawing feeling of discomfort as his thoughts drifted. Chewie sure was right about one thing: Han knew what grief was like. He knew how memories could be triggered by even the smallest, most insignificant things. And here she was, back on the Falcon for the first time since their crazy getaway from the Death Star.

Soon after the Falcon started making its way towards Yavin, the ship’s occupants began piecing together the events that had thrown them together. Luke and Leia hadn’t gotten much farther than _droid_ , _message_ , and _General Kenobi_ before Han realized: this princess they had rescued was the princess of _Alderaan_ , the planet that should have been where only an uncharted, volatile asteroid field now remained. Seeing how she’d been so matter of fact and spirited since breaking out of her cell, he assumed she didn't have any idea what had happened to her planet.

And yet, as they got to _blast shield_ , _lightsaber_ , and _coming out of hyperspace_ , Han had quickly realized just how wrong he’d been. He’d never forget the hollow look in her eyes when they had tried to figure out how to break the news, as if something inside her had been sucked away… For the rest of the journey the ship’s occupants operated under the same unspoken agreement. There had been no further mention of Alderaan.

And now, with Leia’s reaction in the entry corridor yesterday and her continuing to keep her distance today… It left him feeling like a rock had settled right in his gut. They were still another day out from Dansend. He hoped she’d be all right.

Han snorted, then scowled at his boots. Not that he cared or anything.

\--||--

_...majestic, snow-capped mountains stood watch over the grassy meadow below, peaks glowing warmly in the light of the setting sun… people gathered, happy and content… mother and father nearby, smiling lovingly, calling out for her but remaining just beyond reach… beckoning… pleading… calling out as they slipped into darkness… an oppressive, smothering darkness… the hands of a masked figure held her fast as her arms instinctively stretched out for her parents… arrows of green exploded from her outstretched hands and hurtled towards the people in the meadow, arresting dances mid-step and shattering the snowy peaks into jagged shards of ice… the hands tightening their grip on her shoulders… the hiss of mechanized breath coming from all around her... loved ones, friends, all looking at her in horror, mouths agape, crying out in silent terror… hands gripping her arms tighter, shaking her… shaking… calling her name… Leia… Leia!..._

“Leia!”

Her eyes flew open, her breathing as jagged as the shattered peaks. Breaking free of the hands holding her and violently pushing them away, she bolted upright, ready to fight or flee. Her vision came into focus on the man who had been holding her—no, the man in front of her—no... the man... 

_Han?_

She blinked quickly as she tried to catch her breath. Han was perched on the edge of the bunk, hands held up in front of him, palms facing her.

_What the... what the hells is he doing here?_

She blinked again, her eyes darting around the room. The Falcon’s bunk room. It was dark, except for the night cycle’s safety lights. Her datapad was on the floor, her blankets discarded in a tangled clump, and Han, his hair a mess, his eyes wide and alert, his expression worried... 

Leia closed her eyes and tried to swallow, a wave of embarrassment coming over her. She hadn’t realized she made enough noise during her nightmares to wake anyone. Feeling her cheeks flush, she was suddenly grateful for the dim light.

“You all right?”

Leia took a shaky breath and opened her eyes, trying to avoid the concerned look in his. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Han didn’t seem convinced. “That was a pretty rough nightmare you were—”

“—I’m fine,” she interrupted. “It was just a dream.”

His head tilted. “Hey, with everything you’ve—”

“—I’m _fine_ ,” she repeated sharply, finally meeting his gaze. Han closed his mouth but continued to look at her. She took another breath and tried to regain what little composure she had left. 

“I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. I’m sorry I woke you but I’m fine, really.” 

He still looked unconvinced, but she didn’t know how much longer she could hold onto those remaining shreds of self-control. She smiled as politely as she could. 

“Please. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to sleep now.”

Han again opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it, nodding instead. “Yeah” he said, rising from the bunk and heading for the doorway. “Well, um…” he paused at the door, one hand on the frame as he looked back at her. "G’ night.“

She dipped her chin as calmly as she could manage, simultaneously thanking and dismissing him. He nodded once more, then left.

A few more moments passed as she struggled to return her breathing to normal. Then, straightening out the blankets and retrieving the fallen datapad, she settled back into the bunk to review her files. 

Determined not to lose control like that again, it was a long while before she returned to sleep.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	3. The Danger of Kindness

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

_Grief is powerful. Painful. And it is the natural inclination of all sentient beings to avoid pain. Those who feel they need to be “strong” often attempt to be so. They may ignore their grief or try to contain it. But they must continually expend effort to do so, fortifying their defenses against the constant onslaughts of triggered memories, hollow platitudes and even the corrosive pain of the grief itself._

__

__

_Kindness, however, can be even more powerful than grief. Certainly more powerful than a griever’s defenses._

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**MIssion Day 3:  
En Route to Dansend**

****

****

**0700 hours**

Leia stood in front of the small mirror in the Falcon’s bunkroom, sternly regarding the stubborn face looking back at her, trying to get a grip on the emotions congealing in her stomach like hardening duracrete. After a second sleepless night—just another night, really, in a long string of troubled nights—she was exhausted and the pull of the bunk was as strong as the pull of a massive star. But, she still had responsibilities. She had a mission to accomplish. If her determination to bring down the Empire had been strong _before_ , it was wholly resolved now. She couldn’t afford to stay curled up in bed, moping. She needed to stay strong. She needed to work. She needed…

She needed to leave the bunk room for the morning meal. 

And she needed to face Han.

A harsh, humorless laugh escaped her, and the reflection in the mirror regarded her without mirth. She had faced Darth Vader himself, boldly defeating his attempts to forcibly extract information from her about the Rebellion—and yet here she was, nervous about saying good morning to the person who had simply woken her from a bad dream. So what if he had heard her calling out or making whatever noises she made during these episodes? So what if he had seen her without makeup, her hair in disarray, distraught and disoriented? So what if he had entered her room without the permission demanded by etiquette, let alone without her even realizing he was there? So what if…

Her stomach growled. 

She stood up a little taller and straightened her shoulders. She just had to make it through one more day on this ship before they reached Dansend. She took a deep breath, then silently sent her reflection a stern scolding.

_Leia Organa does not hide in bunkrooms._

\--||--

When she finally emerged from the bunkroom, her mental and emotional defenses were prepared for at least a few hours of polite, superficial conversation. She was not prepared, however, for the reception that greeted her.

“Hey, Princess, good timing,” Han said as she entered the common area. “Chewie fixed up a fresh batch of pannacakes. Even got some bacaonut ration bars for the side.” He grinned. “Just a hint of stale packaging aroma for that extra—” Han made a small motion with his hand, evoking a gesture used galaxy-wide to indicate mouthwatering flavor.

Caught completely by surprise, she eyed the duo, trying not to appear suspicious. She didn’t know them well enough to gauge if their joviality was true to their nature or instead a response to her reserved behavior the previous two days... Or, more worrisome, a response to her ordeal last night. It was bad enough that Han had witnessed her nightmare; she desperately hoped Chewie hadn’t heard her, too.

Chewie growled something and Han smirked. “He says if you don’t want the ration bars, he’s got a package of shredded bacaonut you can use. Hey!” Han hollered, “how come you didn’t offer _me_ any shredded bacaonut, huh?” Chewie grumbled a reply, but Han only rolled his eyes and his smirk grew wider. “Yeah, yeah.”

Lacking even the most rudimentary understanding of Shyriiwook and unable to grasp the subtext between the two pilots, Leia made use of her readied defenses and proceeded with simple politeness. “Thank you, Chewie, that sounds lovely.” 

Something shifted. With unexpected intensity, Chewie turned his full attention to Leia, growling what she thought was an inquiry. She turned to Han for translation but he avoided her gaze. “He, uh, asked how you’re doing. If you’re sleeping okay?”

Leia felt her defenses shake. 

“I’m fine,” Leia answered, fighting to keep her expression calm. “Thank you.”

Unfortunately, the Wookiee was not satisfied. He pressed on—and his eyes filled with kindness so pure it threatened to punch right through her weakened shields. She struggled to fortify them as Han translated. “Says maybe it feels strange being back on a ship after weeks planet-side.” He shifted in his seat. “The Falcon does make a lot of strange noises.” 

Chewie turned sharply towards Han, barking at length; Leia suspected Chewie wasn’t pleased with Han’s translation. 

Han, however, seemed to pay no mind, continuing as if there had been no interruption. “You know, if the noise bothers you, I think we have some auditory blockers around here. I can…” 

But Chewie was insistent and continued to try and get his message through, speaking with an earnestness that left Leia feeling wary.

Finally, Han turned and cut his co-pilot off. “Look, that’s not what humans do, all right?”

It wasn’t on the merits of her name alone that Leia had been elected to the Imperial Senate. Clearly, Chewie was trying to say something that Han had no desire to convey and as a skilled diplomat, Leia knew perfectly well how to handle this sort of situation. She knew how to intervene. She knew how to draw out the correct translation and she knew how to make it clear that she expected accuracy despite any concerns the translator might have about the content of the translation. 

She knew exactly what to do.

She didn’t do any of it. 

Nodding briefly and putting on her best smile, Leia rallied her defenses and addressed her determined inquisitor. “Thank you, Chewie, I’m sleeping fine. The sounds of the ship aren’t bothering me at all.” She saw Han turn in her direction but she pushed through. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my work. Good luck on your repairs today.”

Leaving the pannacakes and shredded bacaonut untouched, Leia quickly returned to the bunk room.

**2100 hours**

“Sithspit!”

Chewie stuck his head out from the makeshift galley. _[Pit Marauders get you?]_

Han scowled at his datapad. “Yeah. Damn, this level is hard. How do you stop their Bluefire Spears?”

_[I thought only lazy players needed hints?]_

“ _No_ ,” Han volleyed back, “only lazy players need to _fork out credits_ on those cheat guides. _Good_ players ask for help when they’re stuck and _nice_ players help their buddies out.”

Chewie nodded sagely. _[Perhaps you will find some nice players when we arrive at Dansend.]_

“Fine!” Han called out in mock indignation as Chewie chuckled and returned to his cleaning. “Some help you are!”

A few minutes later, Han was still trying to stop the enemy’s pixelated spears when Chewie emerged from the galley. _[All right Cub, I am done for the day. The galley is all yours.]_

Han switched off his datapad and set it on the table. “Thanks, pal. ‘Night,” he called out as his friend retreated down the corridor. Rising from the table, he moved into the galley to wash his own empty glass.

He was just about to put the clean glass away when his arm changed course, filling the glass with water and setting it to one side of the prep surface before his mind finally caught up with his actions. Han looked at the glass and his thoughts began coming into focus: _she might have another nightmare…_

He inhaled sharply. _Nah, just being practical._ He was feeling a little thirsty and might want some more water in the middle of the night, simple as that. The less time spent getting it in the night, the more time he could spend sleeping. 

He was just looking out for himself, that was all.

\--||--

Leia woke with a start and pushed back roughly, throwing off the hands on her arms, ready to fight as her eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Her vision landed on the shadowy figure of the man in front of her… the man, his arm reaching towards her as if offering something to her… she blinked in confusion…

“Do you want some water?”

Leia’s eyes flew up to the man’s face… Han’s face… with a worried expression on it… Her eyes flicked down to his outstretched hand. 

Water. He had brought her a glass of water.

She took a breath and slowly reached for the glass, willing her arm not to tremble. Still disoriented, she took a few shaky sips. Her breathing slowed, her muscles began to relax, and her arm steadied.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, unable to say more.

“Don’t mention it,” he said softly, his deep voice infused with warmth. And kindness.

But kindness only made things worse. 

Her breathing began to hitch but she clamped down hard, her body beginning to shake again but refusing to let her muscles give in. When she felt she had enough control to extend her arm without spilling the remaining water, she handed the glass back to Han. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes fixed resolutely on the glass.

“Sure, Leia.” After a moment he slowly, almost hesitatingly, rose from the bunk. “Just… you know, try and get some sleep.” And then he was gone.

Rearranging the blankets around her, she tried.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	4. The Only Constant

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

_All things change. Scenes change, plans change. People change, too. Change is a great distraction, capable of making us forget even unbearable grief, at least for a little while. Change can also shift the settled sands of time, revealing aspects of ourselves that had been buried long ago._

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 4:  
Arrival at Dansend**

****

****

**0930 hours**

“Welcome to Dansend’s Depryvet Spaceport, Gentlebeings. Hope you enjoyed the flight. Remember to collect all your belongings and please do fly with us on your next trip; the decor ain’t much to look at but the flight crew is. Half of it, anyway.”

Han’s dry imitation of a commercial transport crewmember earned a roll of Wookie eyes and a soft chuckle of amusement from behind him. He felt a smile tug at his lips and logged Leia's reaction for future reference.

Yet her next response put him on alert. “Thank you, Captain. It was indeed a wonderful flight and both you and your co-pilot should be proud of your deft handling of the entire journey.” 

That tone. She had gone regal again. That aloof princess thing really irked him. He glanced back at said royal—only to find a playful gleam in her sleep-deprived eyes. “And I do agree: Chewie is very handsome indeed.”

Chewie laughed. Han grinned.

**1000 hours**

Dansend’s Depryvet Spaceport had been chosen so the Falcon could arrive and stay on-planet without drawing attention; the busy ground-transport station where Han and Leia now waited for passage to their next destination was just as run down as the spaceport. The waiting hall was large but dimly lit, eliciting a claustrophobic feel despite the high ceilings. Surfaces were covered with residues and dirt hung suspended in the air. Trash littered the floors; the spent pieces of various items no longer of any value, pieces from which every last opportunity for use and re-use had been extracted. 

Beings of several different species filled the hall. Some seats had been claimed while others remained unoccupied, covered in layers of grime and seemingly ready to collapse under the slightest weight. The rest of the beings standing in the hall were like islands to themselves; they stood fixed in place, either alone or gathered in groups of twos or threes, claiming what little area they could and resolutely ignoring everyone else around them.

Machines for purchasing transport fares rested precariously against one wall in an uneven line. Their paint chipped and surfaces dented, they were covered with the art of anonymous locals motivated by a need to express something, _anything_ , silent voices crying out to be heard by the rest of their world. Meanwhile, the audible voices of the beings currently in the waiting hall blended haphazardly into a low, constant hum. A few discernible conversations occasionally rose above the baseline of hushed, veiled speech but quickly spent their energy, returning the hall to a persistent droning thrum.

Leia pulled the hood of her cloak a little farther down over her eyes while continuing to watch the beings in the hall, grateful for the dark, nondescript fabric that prevented her gleaming white clothing from attracting attention. She regarded the scene with an increasingly heavy feeling in her heart; she had been to a number of these sorts of places, and it never got any easier. She had visited with the peoples gathered in such places, heard their stories and offered whatever support she could offer in times like these. But it was never enough… never enough.

Just what might be enough, Leia thought with a dangerously deep pang of sorrow, was one area where she and her father had truly disagreed. Bail’s repeated comments that _there will always be those less fortunate_ never sat well with Leia. She had recognized his reminders for what they were: attempts to prepare her for the probable reality that meaningful progress towards economic equality would not be achieved in her lifetime—not while the Emperor held power. Still, she had refused to even entertain her father’s view that _sometimes, there’s nothing that can be done._

Maybe she wouldn’t be able to solve everyone’s problems but she could still do something. She could at least respect the fundamental dignity of every being she encountered, and fight for a chance at equality, to try and—

“Stop _doing_ that,” Han hissed quietly, cutting through her thoughts.

Leia’s eyes grew wide. “Stop doing _what_?” she hissed back.

His voice remained low. “Stop… just stop _looking around_.”

In complete disbelief, Leia turned to look at him instead. There was absolutely nothing to do in the hall while waiting for the ground transport to Melcloss, their next destination. There were no racks of pamphlets in which to feign interest. There were no shops in which to bide the time. There were no holo-displays showing entertainment programs or Imperial propaganda or whatever passed as local news, and this certainly wasn’t the environment in which to strike up a conversation. All they were doing was leaning against their claimed space along a wall ( _check your sightlines, Worship; can’t keep an eye on all the doors from any of the seats in here _), just waiting until their departure. What else was she supposed to do other than “look around”?__

____

____

As if reading her thoughts, Han continued under his breath without turning to her. “You can’t just stand around looking at people in a place like this. You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

 _I can’t just… A place like…?_ What did he take her for? “Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, keeping her own voice low. “I’ve been to ‘places like this’ many times. I know how to handle myself.”

Now he did turn to look at her. “When was the last time you were in a place like this?”

She paused to calculate. “Two-and-a-half months ago.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Doing what?”

She met his surprise head on, defiant. “Delivering supplies to a local cell.”

“Under cover?”

“Of course. Under the guise of a diplomatic mission.”

He tilted his head and gave her a pointed look. “A diplomatic mission.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Where you were playing your part as princess.”

This was getting tiring. “No, as a _Senator_.”

“And you were trying to blend in with the locals.”

“No, I was—” Leia stopped short. Han gave a curt nod then looked away as she cast her eyes down, feeling uncharacteristically foolish. Of course. She did know how to handle herself in a place like this—as a Princess and Senator. As someone who looked around freely, as someone who _could_ look around freely, someone who had the freedom to come and go as she pleased and who had always had the luxury of guards to protect her in case she drew unwanted attention.

However, unlike the man beside her, she did not know how to handle herself in a place like this in the way required now: unobtrusive. Blending in. Local. Deprived and near desperate.

Keeping her head directed downwards, she began to stealthily sneak glances around her, this time being more mindful of the other beings in the hall. She also took note of Han’s bearing. Although she was sure he was on high alert—his attention on all paths of egress, his body poised to leap into action instantly if necessary—he looked completely at ease. There was a purposeful, casual composure to his form, a bearing that looked completely normal in the hall; he was simultaneously a man of no discernible interest and a man not to be messed with. In stark contrast to her own sudden inner turmoil, his outward appearance was the calm, languid bearing of belonging. 

She pulled her hood a little farther down over her face and hugged her traveling bag closer to her body. For the first time in her several years running missions for the Rebellion, Leia felt completely out of place.

**1330 hours**

“I don’t like this.”

Han nodded. “Yeah. Something’s wrong.”

The pair had arrived in Melcloss a scant thirty minutes prior and were making their way across the town by foot to the regional public air-transport station. If all went according to plan, they would travel from Melcloss to Romel by air to meet Advena, one of Lady Eldera’s close assistants, then Advena would transport the pair to Lady Eldera’s vacation estate near the planet’s Lake Hemeria region. They would arrive at the estate before nightfall, beginning their discussions the following day. It was a circuitous, time-consuming journey from planetary landing pad to secluded negotiation room but given the need to avoid unwanted attention, the route had been deemed necessary: the beat-up Falcon could hardly land in one of the pristine towns near Lake Hemeria without notice, nor could the elegant and easily recognizable Lady Eldera travel to the impoverished towns near Depryvet without attracting suspicion. 

Melcloss was somewhere in-between the extremes, a nondescript town, neither swimming in wealth nor lacking it. The air and surfaces were free from the layers of suspended and settled dirt found in Depryvet and the various features throughout town—lights, seats, buildings, covered waiting areas—were all in better condition. There were shops here and there and a population of beings with enough free time and disposable income to visit, even linger at, the store front displays.

Still, there was a utilitarian feel to the town; life was comfortable enough but certainly not luxurious. Locals could wander the streets at a relaxed pace but not lazily; seats could be taken for resting but not for idleness; speeder traffic delays were tolerated by drivers but only to a point. 

Han and Leia were carefully making their way through the streets of Melcloss, but as they had neared the air-transport station the feel of the town had changed, more than was to be expected of the typical hustle-and-bustle near travel hubs. Everybody seemed too hurried, clutching belongings tightly and looking around cautiously. There was a nearly palpable air of tension that intensified as the pair walked on. 

Something was wrong.

Without warning, Han’s arm was around Leia’s shoulders, pulling her close as he stepped off the main walkway into a narrow alleyway. Leia had the startled urge to throw off his arm in indignation but she suppressed it, recognizing Han’s sudden physical intimacy as an evasive maneuver. They came to a stop a short distance from the main walkway, their bodies huddled together but their attention directed out to the walkway. Han’s right arm dangled casually near his blaster but his left arm kept Leia pressed tightly against his body, shielded from view from the walkway beyond. 

After several moments passed without incident, Leia’s indignation began to return. She had started to disengage from Han’s arm when he quietly spoke. “Wait.”

“Han, I’m sure we’re—”

“Pull out your commlink and open a vid channel.”

“What?”

“Just bring it out.”

As she tried to peer around Han’s body into the main walkway, Leia’s nascent irritation shifted. For reasons she had no time to contemplate, she wasn’t worried; instead, she was amused. “Is this the part where we pretend to be lovers in order to elude our pursuers?”

It took a moment but her question finally registered. Han froze, then pulled away slightly to regard her with raised brows—and the hint of a smirk. He was as amused as she was, despite their situation. “You’ve been watching too many holodramas.”

Leia rolled her eyes and shook her head with a smile but brought her commlink out anyways. “So what are we going to do with this?”

Han was silent for a beat before shrugging sheepishly. “Stand here pretending to be a couple watching holovids so the bad guys don’t notice us.”

At just that moment, a message came through on her device. It was from Advena, Lady Eldera's aide. The wording was vague but the meaning was clear enough: the air transport stations in both Melcloss and their next destination, Romel, had been compromised. Avoid at all cost. Follow the described alternate plan.

Leia exhaled briskly. “Well, I guess we were right.”

“Yeah,” Han said, glancing once more out onto the walkway before finally relaxing and removing his arm from her shoulders. “What about this alternate route she sent? You think it’s good?” He tilted his head. “This really changes things.”

Leia considered the message again. The new plan, assuming she understood the coded phrasing correctly, was not without its own dangers but it was reasonable.

Her decision made, Leia nodded firmly. “Yes. We need to get to Wellene.”

Han paused. “But then an overnight ground transport to Milahrn?”

“We don’t have a choice about the delay.” Leia pursed her lips. “Milahrn isn’t too far out of the way. We can still start discussions tomorrow.”

“Yeah but the overnight transport…” Han paused again as if he was choosing his words carefully, then turned his gaze towards the main walkway. “You know, we’re gonna have to travel as a couple.”

Leia's brows creased. First alleyway lovers, now a couple traveling together overnight? “And why is that?"

Han clenched his jaw. “Listen, I know it’s not proper-like but it’s gonna look real strange if we’re traveling separately. Don’t worry, I’ll take the floor.”

“Captain, there is nothing at all unusual about two people traveling together without being a couple. Separate cabins will be perfectly suitable for tonight.”

“How am I gonna run security if I’m in the next cabin over?” Han glanced at her briefly. “Not very good to you if I’m stuck outside your room.”

“Not very good to me if you get stuck _in_ side my room either; then we’ll both be stuck.”

The corners of Han’s mouth tugged upwards. “I don’t know. I’ve seen you with a blaster. I bet you could get us unstuck.”

Despite her frustration Leia appreciated the compliment—and the easy win. “That’s why I don’t need a security detail _in my room_. We will travel in separate cabins.”

Han sighed, his head dropping a few centims. He turned away from the main walkway and looked her directly in the eyes, laying bare his underlying point. “What if you have another nightmare? Not gonna be very good if I can’t get to you before you wake up the whole train.”

He might as well have slapped her. It was bad enough that someone had witnessed her regular nightly struggles. How dare he throw them in her face like that? Just as bad: he was right and she knew it. Even if she woke up on her own without his interference, whatever noises she might make before she woke up could very well disturb any other passengers near her cabin—just as they had woken Han the past two nights on the Falcon. That was attention they most certainly should not draw.

Angry at Han and at herself, she looked away. Her career as an Alliance operative might come to a quick end if she couldn’t get a handle on herself. She hated it.

She felt a little nudge at her side. “Hey, besides,” Han said softly, “if we travel in just one cabin, that’ll save your little club some credits.”

Looking up at him, she found him regarding her gently. He even seemed contrite. Almost.

“Fine,” she huffed, not bothering to hide her displeasure. “We'll go as a couple. But I’m not watching holovids on my commlink with you.”

Han gave a half-smile and a nod of understanding, then straightened up. “OK, then, _sweetie dear_ ,” he said, a sarcastic tone highlighting their new unofficial status, “let’s get out of here and go find ground transport to Wellene.”

**2000 hours**

The meandering stone streets leading from Wellene’s ground-transport station to its rail-transport hub were like something out of a travel-department vid; they were a nice change of pace after months of utilitarian ship corridors, parched deserts and oppressively sweltering jungles. Weathered, sand-colored arches bridging the buildings on either side of them spanned the street at regular intervals. Wooden entryways to the private residences lining the walkways lent the area a rustic ambiance and vine-covered trellises were in full early-season bloom. The soft, cool breeze of early evening carried promises of quiet contentment. Even the other passersby walking here and there were beautiful. Clothing draped and moving with fluid grace. Jewelry and other adornments sparkling in the warm light of the setting sun. The quiet sounds of pleasant conversation blended together harmoniously, rising and falling like melodies from times long since gone.

Despite the picturesque beauty of their surroundings, Han could not bring himself to fully enjoy it. Maybe it was the ridiculous cape Leia had made him wear ( _I understand you feel like a Kowakian monkey-lizard, but it will help you blend in_ ), but from the moment they had arrived in Wellene, things had seemed off. Floors and streets were clean, as were the walls both inside and out. The seating, even in exposed public areas, was all in good shape, any upholstery well-tended. Even the air was clean. And the others they encountered when they couldn’t avoid it—coming and going here and there, occupying adjacent seats, the servers taking their evening-meal orders—were all very… polite...

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Would you just relax?”

His lip curled. “I _am_ relaxed.”

Leia turned to him, one hand keeping her hood over her face. “Han, it’s all right, you don’t have to—we’re safe.”

“That’s what we thought in Melcloss,” he grumbled quietly. “Can never be too careful.”

“That may be but you can’t just—you can’t just walk around scoping out everyone and everything. Relax.”

Han turned and looked at her. She still wore the cloak she had worn all day, but she had reversed it to reveal a subtle, shimmery lining. He knew she was paying attention to their surroundings—he was pretty sure she was ready to grab her blaster if she needed to—and yet it looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. There was a natural ease to the way she walked, and even just wearing her plain cloak she blended right in with the rest of the well-dressed locals. He may have been completely on edge, but she looked composed and elegant; like she belonged here. 

He looked again at their surroundings, noting the beings they passed. 

Rich. They were all rich. Not just rich... Refined. _Proper_. 

This was not a crowd Han typically found himself in and he felt unusually but distinctly uncomfortable. These things hadn’t bothered him in a long time, but it was so crystal clear that Leia and everyone else around here came from a class of beings that was closed off to someone like him. He felt uncharacteristically out of his element, even just walking along this relatively quiet and nondescript street. His ability to read others, honed from years spent in places far rougher than Wellene’s, was faltering here. 

The pieces clicked. It wasn’t Wellene that was off; _he_ was off. He was flying without sensors.

Han gritted his teeth but tried to loosen his body. “Let’s just get to the next station and get on the overnight rail, then I’ll see about relaxing. It’s still a long night ahead of us before Milarhn.”

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**NOTE:** _Thank you_ to JustineGraham for Han’s wisecrack at the chapter’s opening, about half the flight crew being nice to look at. That’s all hers. And I love it. <3

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	5. Negotiating Luxury

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

_Time, friendship, love; they may eventually soften the heart so it again beats warmly for others. But what experiences may have led to its hardening to begin with? When your vulnerability reveals itself and you stumble, who will catch you?_

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 5:  
Arrival at Lady Eldera’s Estate**

****

****

**0900 hours**

Lady Eldera’s Lake Hemeria vacation estate was magnificent. Gently sprawling, landscaped grounds were draped with broad stone paths, all converging at the large and exquisitely designed main residence. Ornately carved marble columns supported molded stone archways and delicately placed balconies, creating an enticing network of corridors leading to hidden courtyards. The foliage in the courtyards was lush and expertly tended, enhancing the shape of their natural forms.

Inside the residence, the furnishings and ornamentation were just as sumptuous. The walls were covered in rich hues, embellished with patterns evoking the elegance of bygone eras. Adorning the walls were portraits of nobles and other pieces of fine art. The occasional items of furniture were finely crafted from dense hardwoods and upholstered with resplendent fabrics. Light shimmered through rooms and hallways, either emanating from twinkling fixtures or entering through elegantly draped windows. 

Lady Eldera herself, clothed in the luxurious designs befitting a noblewoman of high rank, led Leia and Han on a tour through the estate, passing alternately through interior and exterior spaces.

The near dizzying degree of opulence wasn't Leia's preferred style but she still admired it. In reality, it wasn’t Eldera's preferred style either, but that was something only those closest to her knew. Leia had learned some time ago that Eldera’s public displays of her wealth were all intentional and carefully planned; as long as she maintained an appearance of aloof, affluent superficiality, she could divert attention away from the activities that were truly her life's mission—financing organizations doing the difficult work of promoting democracy and striving towards the reduction of economic inequality. 

Even so, as Eldera led the way through the estate to the negotiation rooms, Leia realized that such a lavish display of extravagance was affecting her in ways she had never experienced before. After the last several weeks of living on an under-resourced military base, she found the familiarity of such luxury as comforting as she found the amount of resources invested in such frivolity obscene. The juxtaposition was jarring and Leia was glad for the delay introduced into their journey the previous day. After her three sleepless nights on the Falcon, interrupted by her thoughts and nightmares, the night of relatively decent sleep she had gotten on the overnight transport between Wellene and Milahrn had been good for her, fortifying her for the coming days of talks and negotiations.

It really _had_ been a good night of sleep, Leia acknowledged with a strange wisp of uncertainty, even with Han sleeping in the same small transport cabin with her. _(What if you have another nightmare? Not gonna be very good if I can’t get to you before you wake up the whole train.)_ Not that she had slept well because Han was there; more likely than not, her exhaustion had simply caught up with her. Certainly not because of his surprising gentleness upon waking her from her nightmares on the Falcon and certainly not because such gentleness had suggested he might be worthy of a deeper level of trust...

Leia glanced back at Han. He was making a good show of looking relaxed though she was quite sure he was anything but. He had been on edge since their arrival in Wellene yesterday evening and had grown even more prickly since their arrival in Milahrn earlier this morning. Then, during the speeder ride from the Milahrn rail station to the estate, he had become positively pensive. Granted, it was a surprise change in plans that Advena’s brother Adende, another of Eldera’s closest aides, had transported them to the estate in place of Advena. Still, Leia thought Adende’s excellent driving skills might have allowed Han to relax, and yet Han had barely uttered more than a few words.

She was beginning to suspect that his sour mood might have something to do with the increasing degrees of luxury they had encountered since arriving in Wellene. With each passing moment in their journey, the views had grown more stunning and their surroundings more refined. The overnight rail had been beautifully appointed; the Milahrn rail station was impeccably decorated; Adende’s speeder was a recent model of a luxury line; and the early morning views of the Lake Hemeria region revealed a verdant, fertile countryside usually accessible only to the very wealthy. Eldera’s grand estate was a culmination of it all: the architecture grand and the surrounding land idyllic. It was, Leia could imagine, simply overwhelming.

“Oh! Leia, dear, have you ever seen such splendid Mylara blossoms?” Eldera asked breezily as they passed a particularly fragrant collection of vines. “They’ve just begun their blooming period. If time permits, I must bring you to my gardens after our mid-day meal. A stroll will be good for us, of course, and the Mylara vines in the garden are accentuated beautifully by thickets of Novabells.”

Leia smiled, admittedly pleased about the prospect of finally visiting the famed gardens, and also a little amused imagining the effort Han must be making not to snort out loud. “That would be lovely, Eldera. We would be honored to visit your gardens.”

Eldera resumed her idle chatter as they continued to walk to the negotiation rooms, giving Leia another opportunity to sneak a glance back at Han. This time, however, he caught her eyes, and returned her glance with something resembling a sneer.

She responded with a warm, open smile, watching as Han’s expression softened in return. A bit. 

**1200 hours**

As Lady Eldera, Leia, and Han moved to a new set of rooms for their mid-day meal after a morning filled with conversation, Han found himself marveling that two people, two official and skilled leader-types, could talk so much while saying so little. No wonder the galaxy was in the state it was in.

Still, at least Leia bothered to look at him every now and then, acknowledging his presence and signaling that she hadn't forgotten he existed. The elder woman occasionally glanced his way as well, but not nearly so often and not nearly so kindly. She was warm enough to Leia, but not to him. The noblewoman’s detached aloofness rubbed him the wrong way. Like Leia's princess poise, it was a grating, rude reminder: he was different. He didn't belong.

Coming to the dining rooms he saw ornately framed artworks floating on the intricately patterned walls, tall vases placed about the room filled with fresh and dramatically arranged blooms and sparkling chandeliers sprinkling colorful light throughout the open space. As they took their seats at the dining table, Han realized that even the table was, as the old lady would say, _splendid_. A splendid table cloth, a splendid flower centerpiece in a splendid metal vessel, splendidly crafted eating utensils arranged around splendidly embellished plates… in fact… 

_That’s... a lot of forks._

Han caught himself staring at the number of eating implements and felt an unfamiliar spike of panic. As the three of them took their seats, he quickly looked around the table, years of honing his sabacc face serving him well. Two, maybe three utensils was usually all he had ever needed when eating; here there were ten. _Ten_. Ten utensils for _each_ place setting. And five plates. And three drinking cups. 

And this was just the _mid-day_ meal? 

”Thank you, Adende,” Eldera said with graceful flourish, as a server came in with the food. “This looks absolutely delightful.”

Han looked up. Adende had driven them to the estate from Milahrn earlier that morning. It seemed odd that the same person would be both a driver and server...

He was distracted from his line of thinking as Leia and Eldera began to eat. Han, moving slowly, sabacc face still in place, watched his table companions and tried to follow their lead. _Third fork from the right… hexagonal plate… narrow cup—no, just a stray hand movement…_ He thought he was doing a pretty good job covering for his lack of knowledge… until he saw Leia give him a small double-take and then slowly pause her motions. 

_Sith_ , Han cursed silently.

“Eldera,” Leia said, “that piece there, in the golden frame,” Leia indicated a piece of art on the wall behind the elder noblewoman. “It’s just beautiful. I don’t believe I know the artist?”

Eldera turned around to the artwork in question, and immediately brightened. “Ah! Leia dear, a keen eye as always.” 

Then, while Eldera’s attention was focused on the artwork behind her and _away from the table_ , Leia gave Han a quick and quiet lesson on formal lunch table etiquette. 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or be mad, but when Leia caught his eye again and gave him another one of those warm smiles, he couldn’t help but smile in return. 

**1300 hours**

Mid-day meal was, Leia admitted with ease, very delightful, and as promised, they were now off for an after-meal stroll through the estate’s gardens. Thinking back to their meal, she was glad she could give Han that quick lesson on dining etiquette, especially having been on the receiving end of many such lessons herself. How long had it taken her to learn which spiked utensil to use first, or which cup? To have so many different utensils for the same basic purpose had once struck her as completely ridiculous; it was one reason she had found it so difficult to stay focused during her many protocol lessons with her tutors. Her smile deepening, she idly wondered what would have happened if this had been a meal with her parents. Would she have been quite as successful in distracting them in order to help Han? Or would her parents have quickly caught on to what she was doing and had a good chuckle at the difficulty of it all, agreeing that such things could often seem unnecessarily complicated? Would they have slowed down to properly guide Han through the etiquette, taking their time so they could enjoy their meal while discussing all the subtleties and significance, the four of them laughing all the while—

Leia felt her throat tighten, and she hastily returned her attention to the gardens. 

She’d been hoping for this, to be honest. She had known Eldera loved tending to her gardens and was always delighted to show them off to any guests. It was a very pleasant stroll, their time spent in genial small-talk, with Leia recognizing a number of different specimens from a multitude of different worlds. A frilly leafed stalk from Ithor. A star-shaped bloom from Chandrila. Even a rare specimen from the ancient gardens of Coruscant. 

Suddenly, she halted, spotting a different collection of flowers nearby in full, lustrous bloom. She tried to drag her eyes away but it was as if the delicate petals held the entire gravitational pull of their home system’s sun. She could hear the wind rushing past her ears as she felt herself being drawn in, succumbing to the weight of the blooms, recalling springtime outside her childhood bedroom window... 

… she grew vaguely aware that a hand had been placed gently on her shoulder, and Eldera’s voice floated into her awareness as if coming from a distant star system. _Yes, my dear. Those are Alderaanian aralutes… Leia, I… I can only imagine how painful this must be for you, but please know that your father, your mother… they were good friends… I was so relieved to get word from you..._

...Leia’s years of training took over. As if on autopilot, she offered Eldera a small nod and a smile of acknowledgement. But she knew what was coming; she could feel it. Her internal winds had shifted directions: a storm was brewing, approaching fast. She fought to remember how to breathe, how to distract herself; anything to cut her senses off from the familiar, delicate fragrance of the aralutes, anything to ward off the—

Han’s voice entered her awareness and a chill void appeared at her side. The shock of it pulled her attention towards the absence and Leia saw Eldera making her way over to Han, the two of them engaged in light conversation about a different collection of flowers. 

Then he looked back at her, his gaze lingering, intent and assessing. 

It was a few moments before realization finally dawned. Han couldn’t care less about the flowers or their irrigation systems. He was just giving Leia some space to breath. And it had worked. Her internal winds had shifted again, and the oncoming storm had been blown back out into the distance.

Leia felt an unexpected warmth blossom in her chest and a small smile touch her lips. Now that was some rescue. 

**1600 hours**

Han Solo was an experienced spacer. He had flown from one end of the galaxy to the other. He had lost count of the number of long-distance hauls he had made. He knew how to pass the time, when time meant weeks on end spent in the restrictive confines of a ship. He knew how to deal with constant dullness. He knew how to manage boredom.

And yet, Han Solo had never been so bored in his entire life. 

All this political chit chat. All this endless talking. All this circling round and round the same points, over and over again. Sitting here, with these two politicians, these two supposed friends, he silently vowed never to complain during a long-haul flight ever again. 

He was counting the number of swirls on a particularly flamboyant portrait frame for the twenty-third time when a voice broke through the static.

“Han, could you look that up?”

He turned, only to find Leia looking at him expectantly. Eldera, who had been looking at him far more warmly since his little diversion in the garden, was also eyeing him with expectation.

He sat a bit more upright. “Uh, sure I can look up…” he trailed off.

Leia picked up smoothly from his pause. “The current tax rates on bacta imports on Delvarian.”

Han nodded. It sounded like the most ridiculous thing she could ask of him but if it meant he could do something other than look at gaudy portraits of dead rich people, that was fine by him. “Sure,” he responded, as he picked up a nearby datapad.

**1700 hours**

So. Much. _Talking_. And it all seemed to have multiple layers of meaning, without any unifying point, meandering aimlessly without ever arriving at any destination. His quick response on the bacta import tax had been received graciously but it had been a mere eyeblink of activity in a yawning expanse of unending non-activity. He knew he was here as security but he was beginning to hope some bad guys might show up soon, put him out of his misery...

“...perhaps,” Leia answered Eldera as she turned to him. “We could use more clear information on the current state of trade negotiations between Delvarian bacta importers and the Fruhlish Trade Group. Would you mind looking into that?”

Now this was actually the sort of thing he paid attention to from time to time: a smuggler who knew when trade talks were going sour was a smuggler who stood a better chance at turning a profit. He straightened up as he again reached for the datapad. “Sure, Leia.”

Turning his attention to his research he noticed the kind expression on Eldera’s face. From cool and aloof to warm and kind. He could get used to that.

**1800 hours**

“You’re a _smuggler_.” Eldera’s shocked realization rang through the room as her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. The growing warmth Han had perceived from her quickly cooled along with the evening air.

The room grew quiet. 

Han bristled. He should have known better than to relax around the noblewoman. Maybe Leia was an exception—and the jury was still out on that one—but it looked like this Lady Eldera was clearly one of _those_ rich people. People who looked down on someone like him. Who thought they were better than everybody else. Who didn’t know what it was like for the rest of the galaxy. Who didn’t understand that some people had to do whatever they could to put food on a table and shelter over their heads.

He itched to tell the woman this. The words to put her in her place were right at the tip of his tongue. Whatever good it would do for a low-life to try and talk sense into an aristocrat.

“Yeah,” Han said simply, leaning back in his chair, his steely gaze never leaving the elder woman’s eyes. He was done. If they thought they were going to get anything else from him with just a few nice smiles, they were dead wrong. 

It was Leia who finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “I’m a criminal now too, Eldera.”

Eldera blinked. Her standoff with Han broken, she turned her eyes to Leia. 

A smile of cold marble slipping into place, Leia continued. “Lady Eldera, thank you for a lovely day of fruitful discussion. I think now would be a good time to break for the night.”

Eldera’s eyes softened but something hard remained in her expression. “Of course,” the elder woman responded smoothly. “Perhaps you would join me for dinner before you retire for the evening?”

“Thank you,” Leia demurred, “but it has been a rather long two days given the unexpected travel rearrangements. We shall take dinner in our rooms, if that’s quite all right, and we can reconvene tomorrow morning.”

“Certainly,” Eldera replied, and with a sudden change of tone accentuated by an airy flourish: “Please! Allow me show you to your rooms. I have the finest suite prepared for you! I do hope you will be comfortable.”

As they rose from the table, Han thought he saw a flicker of something pass through Leia’s facade. She seemed angry with the final turn of conversation, turning as it did on the cold reality of his work as a smuggler crashing into Eldera’s fancy ideas about such low-life ways to make a living. It pissed him off—and put him right back to feeling as on edge as he had felt earlier that morning.

\--||--

As she led them through ornate corridors to the secluded guest wing, Eldera largely ignored Han, speaking to Leia about the various furnishings and decor throughout the hallways. Han used the time to try and regain his bearings. 

It wasn’t going well.

He’d been in some swanky places in his time, from the high-rolling venues of the Casino District on Ord Mantell to the resort moon of Dorumaa—but this estate was beyond anything he’d seen before. It boggled his mind, frankly, and his mind wasn’t easily boggled. He’d known there were people this rich—maybe even Leia had been this rich—but to see it in person… it made him feel like an imposter. Small. And Han Solo never felt small. It was a new and distinctly unpleasant experience. 

Being ignored and dismissed didn’t help.

Worse, he wasn’t even sure he’d been of much help to Leia and he hated when his efforts were wasted. He’d known there wouldn’t be much to do once they arrived here but this was not what he had expected. He had felt completely off balance since they had arrived in Wellene and even more so after boarding Adende’s high-end speeder in Milahrn. Leia, meanwhile, had seemed perfectly at ease the whole time. And the day full of just talking… What kind of security detail was he? He was supposed to stay alert but he kept tuning out from sheer boredom. It had been so bad Leia kept giving him odd assignments just so he had something to do, like a kid being entertained by the adults. 

But—he was the one who had insisted that he should come along to these talks, be on hand _just in case_. He’d walked right into this.

They reached the entrance to the guest wing and the lighthearted conversation between Eldera and Leia came to a close. Eldera bid them good night and with a final, cool glance at Han, she turned on her heel and returned the way they had come. 

He did not belong here.

\--||--

Han stopped just inside the entrance to the suite but Leia continued through the common area back to the sleeping rooms. Finding the one assigned to her, she checked on her traveling bag and briefly considered washing up for the night. Instead, given the surprising end to the day’s talks, she decided to take some additional time to unwind and reflect on what had transpired.

As she passed back through the common area, she found Han still at the entrance, staring at the floor. 

“Are you going to stand there all night?” Leia asked as she entered the suite’s kitchenette. “Rooms are down the hallway. You can get settled in,” she called from the kitchen. She began to rummage through the holding spaces, but it didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for: a wine glass in the cabinet and a bottle of wine in the cooling unit. Pleased with her discoveries, she returned to the common room only to find Han still fixed in place. 

Wondering what had captivated his attention, Leia placed her wine and glass on the low table, then walked over to stand at Han’s side. Her gaze swept the area holding his interest but she saw nothing of note in the plush strands of white carpeting. She lifted her head to look up at him, to ask him what he saw—but her words died on her lips as she met his eyes, the emotions in them stopping her immediately.

She knew that look. It was the look she had come to expect during her many missions to places like Depryvet. Depryvet, where Han had been alert while also relaxed and confident. Relaxed and confident, his bearing and behavior a stark contrast to the tenseness and agitation he had displayed in Wellene, Milahrn and here in Eldera’s estate. Wellene, Milahrn, and Eldera’s estate, each place more extravagant than the last in their presentation of economic abundance, grandeur, and luxury.

Luxury. Like carpet.

Leia realized Han wasn’t staring at something _in_ the carpet, he was staring _at_ the carpet. Thick, soft, creamy white wall-to-wall carpet. Carpet in general was a luxury for most beings in the galaxy, especially for those who spent most of their time on spaceships, and this weave in particular was especially plush. Moreover, carpet was usually found in private areas, like personal quarters; its presence here lent a distinct air of intimacy, of being in a home. Someone _else’s_ home. Leia took the carpet for granted; Han most certainly did not.

The look of vulnerability buried deep in Han’s eyes struck her to the core.

Fortunately, Leia’s long experience with similar reactions had taught her a few ways to handle them. Tonight, she thought, she would be breaking a few rules of etiquette.

She looked back down at the carpet. “This carpet certainly is quite beautiful. I’m almost nervous to walk on it. But knowing Eldera, this should be a good stain-resistant fiber that can handle whatever we throw at it. So leave your boots on if you like, or take them off, whichever you prefer.” She glanced back up at Han to catch his look of cautious disbelief and tossed him a warm smile as she turned back to the kitchenette. “I’ll be right back.”

Leia again searched through the cabinets for more supplies, then spent a few minutes more just making an audible show of rummaging around. Staying out of his sight and keeping him out of hers, she hoped to give Han the space he needed to settle in. After what she hoped was enough time had passed, she emerged from the kitchenette with a glass and bottle of ale and returned to the common room seating area. Han had moved further into the room—boots on—but he still looked lost. 

Handing him the glass and ale she started for the couch—then plopped herself right down onto the floor instead, fighting to keep a straight face as she felt Han’s gaze bore incredulously into her. She stretched her legs lazily in front of her, poured herself some wine, and leaned back against the couch.

Picking up the infrared tuner for the viewscreen, she began changing broadcast frequencies. “Have you ever been here before? I’m looking for the most ridiculous program on right now. Any ideas?”

Silence. Then, Han slowly made his way to the side of the couch—though he chose to sit on the cushioned furniture instead of on the floor, perching on the edge with his back straight and his arms held tightly against his torso. She worked to keep her face neutral; she wouldn’t have thought it possible but Han Solo looked positively _proper_. 

“Uh, no. Not really,” he said, as she paused her frequency tuning on one program. Five beings stood side by side, looking with determination at an obstacle course laid out in front of them. The course was brightly colored, accentuated by gaudy patterns in garish colors. There were rubbery pendulums that could knock the contestants over, swords of foam promising a clumsy sparring match and vats of slimy goo awaiting those contestants who fell off rotating platforms in their bid to cross to the other side. Han chuckled in surprise. “I can’t believe you watch this stuff.”

Leia laughed lightly and genuinely. “I don’t, usually. There’s no time. But every now and then it’s fun. It’s a good way to unwind.”

She felt Han’s gaze on her, but then he leaned back, ale in hand, and watched the program with her. “Yeah, I guess so.”

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	6. Getting Down to Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick interruption to the story, folks, as I feel I need to acknowledge something. This story was started back in 2018 and was nearly ready for posting at the start of 2020—before 2020 started pulling us all in new directions...
> 
> Now that I've been coming back to the story to clean things up and post it, some of the content has been hitting me in new ways, especially after this past year. Some issues have already made their appearance in previous chapters; others are coming up in future chapters. Issues such as the hardships of economic inequality, the tragedy and absolute *wrongness* of prejudice and injustice, the relative fragility of democracy and the challenges of protecting it… Of course, maybe this story has just been in my head too long, and any parallels between our real world and this fictional universe aren't nearly as impactful as I feel them to be. Or, maybe they are.
> 
> Whatever the case, I just couldn't continue without somehow acknowledging connections between our real world and this particular work of fiction. This story is ultimately about Han and Leia—but even in their fictional universe they do not exist isolated from the issues in their worlds any more than we live independently from the issues in ours.
> 
> If you're just here for a Han and Leia story with a bit more heft than fluff, and if you've been good with how these real-world issues have been raised and handled so far, then you should be good for the rest!
> 
> I just hope that however I've handled these very real issues in this fictional way has at least been respectful; I wish I could do far better.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

_Sometimes the best way forward is to cut to the chase._

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 6:  
Discussions Continue**

****

****

**0730 hours**

Leia sat at the small table in her guest room, carefully placing tendrils of hair into intricate arrangements and preparing herself for the day ahead. Last evening had been quite enjoyable, watching silly programming in the common area with Han. Now, though, as a new day dawned without such distractions, Leia could reflect more fully on yesterday’s events and process their implications.

She had anticipated Eldera’s initial insistence on holding to the rules of Royal House etiquette; Han was an unknown entity to the intensely private noblewoman and Eldera would need some time to decide how far to welcome him into her circle. However, Leia had not expected Eldera to continue holding to the etiquette for so long. So, according to custom, out of deference for the degree of propriety desired by all Houses involved in a discussion, Leia and Eldera had held to its rules—the incredibly tedious and highly inefficient rules. All. Day. Long.

She exhaled sharply. She had _not_ anticipated the surprising and unpleasant turn that concluded yesterday’s discussion.

The reflection in the table’s mirror glared at her. Leia thought she knew Eldera. So why had Eldera suddenly grown cold after realizing what Han’s trade was? Or what her own new legal status was, for that matter? Leia knew that many on Dansend held such prejudiced views towards beings assigned “criminal” status; surely Eldera didn’t really share those views, too?

Leia looked away from her reflection and huffed. She couldn’t really fault Eldera for not having given their criminal status more thorough consideration in advance. After all, who would ever have thought the upstanding young Senator from Alderaan and adored Princess of the revered House Organa would ever run so far afoul of the law? 

Also troubling was her state of feeling… well, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling, really, if anything at all. After her initial discomfort upon arriving at the estate the previous morning, Leia had at last relaxed into the familiarity of material finery and the trappings of royal protocol and mannerisms. At the same time, there was something markedly surreal about all of it, making the past few weeks of spartan military living seem so far away, so distant, as if only a dream. Being here in the estate was so familiar that she could almost forget… almost…

Leia took a deep breath. Returning her focus to the mirror she put the last hairpin in place and gave her reflection a final appraisal. Overall, she was pleased with the sartorial message she had assembled for the day. Her utilitarian uniform, with its clean lines and lack of excess material or ornamentation, was the very antithesis of the frivolous luxury characterizing Eldera’s lifestyle, and its strict, militaristic lines underscored the serious nature of the meetings being held. After all, she was not here for a social call. And yet, in stark contrast with her no-nonsense attire, she had gathered her hair into an elaborate style appropriate for a formal Elder House function. The intricate patterns of carefully pinned locks achieved a level of whimsy fit for a princess, with the precise placement of each loop and swirl following the advanced and more obscure rules of royal etiquette. 

Eldera may be a friend, but Leia didn’t have to make it easy for her. If Her Majesty the Honorable Esteemed Lady Eldera the 37th of Dansend insisted upon formal royal decorum while simultaneously ignoring the political reality presented by her rebellious guests—then she was going to get the most decorous, treasonous royal she had ever met.

A light tapping interrupted her thoughts and Han’s low, muffled voice drifted through the closed door. “Hey, you awake?” 

Leia cleared her throat. “Yes. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Yeah… Uh, I made some kaffe. If you want any.”

Her shoulders relaxed and a smile tugged at her lips. Just last night, Han had been frozen to the spot by the audaciously intimidating luxury of their guest suite, and now he was comfortable enough to make kaffe. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

As she heard him move away from the door she turned back to the mirror, giving her reflection one last glance. But her brows furrowed at the image. Something was missing. After a moment of consideration, she reached up to her tunic collar and opened it a few notches adding a touch of disregard one might expect of an anti-establishment smuggler. 

**0800 hours**

“Thank you, Adende,” Lady Eldera intoned as her aide finished placing a tray of nuts, fruits, and small breads on the table. “Do return with that lovely array of jams as soon as you can; enough to cover everything!”

Han watched carefully as Adende bowed slightly, then exited the room. It was a straightforward exchange between royal and aide, but like everything else this morning, there was something else going on that he wasn’t fully catching.

Something had shifted since yesterday, and he couldn’t tell what.

The room in which they had again gathered to hold their discussions had been dramatically simplified. The walls were still covered with ornately carved frames showcasing all kinds of art, but the table was bare; except for the flat metal trays of refreshments Adende had brought in, there were no vases or other useless decorations littering the tabletop. The refreshments themselves were simple, too, presented without yesterday’s artsy arrangements or fussy garnishes. And there were just bare basics for plates and eating utensils; nothing at all like yesterday’s ridiculously complicated spread.

Something about Leia had changed as well, although he couldn’t figure that out either. Her appearance was striking; her hairstyle was complicated and looked real nice but her clothes were simple and all business. And if the once-over she had given their surroundings this morning was any indication, something had caught her by surprise, too. She seemed like she was on stand-by, like she was waiting for something. 

Maybe she was waiting for Adende to return?

In Leia’s pre-mission briefing, she had mentioned Eldera would only have a few staff members present ( _only her most trusted aides_ ). So far, she had been right: Han had just seen Adende and had only heard about one other aide, Adende’s sister, Advena, who was usually off working in other parts of the estate. However, in watching Adende over the past day, Han was beginning to suspect that Eldera’s staff might include just Adende and Advena; Adende was so clearly comfortable serving in the dual roles of driver and waitstaff, Han suspected he might fill other roles as well. So why was he coming back so soon if he’d already brought in their morning refreshments? 

With the background noise of boring political chit-chat starting up once again, Han took a deep breath; maybe nothing had really shifted after all. Settling back into his chair, he prepared for another long day.

**0915 hours**

A knock at the door interrupted Han from his third round of counting the number of right-handed swirls on all the artwork frames.

“You may enter,” Eldera called gracefully.

Adende entered the room with a folder of flimsies and strode purposefully to the table, taking a seat immediately next to the noblewoman; the two turning to each other and bending close, they talked in hushed tones.

Han watched the pair carefully. Yesterday, Eldera had been physically aloof, a figure fit for a pedestal; even her few brief hugs with Leia had seemed cool and practiced although the two of them were supposed to be friends. Yet here were Eldera and Adende, royal and hired aide, huddled closely together, like partners in crime. 

He also noticed that Adende came into the room with only the flimsies in hand. Eldera had made it a point to ask him to bring back some jams, right? Seemed strange that Adende would have ignored a direct request... 

_What_ was going on? 

Han glanced at Leia, but she seemed completely unconcerned, waiting patiently as the two conferred. 

A beat of silence passed between the co-conspirators, before Eldera nodded to Adende and leaned back in her chair, her gaze finding Leia’s.

“I hope all is well?” Leia asked after a prolonged moment of silence.

Eldera took a long breath and as she released it, her entire bearing transformed. Radiating from within her was a resolve that Han had only ever seen in a few other beings; one of them sitting right next to him.

“Yes, dear, all is well. Shall we get down to business?”

Leia shifted in her seat, her shields lowering slightly. She had been expecting this. “Advena?”

Eldera tipped her head. “She is keeping watch.”

“On jammers?” 

She was asking about communications jammers, Han realized, asking if their conversation would be protected from any unfriendly ears. _What the hells is going on?_

“Of course,” Adende chimed in. “And she says she'll meet you later this evening in your suite.

“Very good,” Leia replied. Han couldn’t tell if it was the confirmation that their conversations were protected or that she would be seeing Advena tonight, but whatever it was, Leia was grinning as she fully lowered her shields, easily discarding her own facade of languid royal airs as she turned to Eldera. “As you will.”

“Thank you.” Eldera smiled genuinely in return. “First, however,” she said, turning her now piercing gaze to Han, “I believe an apology is in order.” 

Han stared back, watching and ready, sabacc face firmly in place. He had no idea what was happening now.

“Captain Solo—Han, if I may?” Eldera tilted her head in request, to which he responded with a quick, silent nod. “Han. The social and political realities here on Dansend are… frustrating to say the least. Our people can be as stuck in their ways as they can be forward thinking and as callous as they can be caring. As such, I learned long ago that to retain any influence within our government, to have any hope of guiding our world forward, I would need to carry myself in the ways expected of _royalty_.” She loaded the final word with meaning, but Han didn’t have time to parse it out before she continued.

Extending her hand, Eldera indicated their surroundings with a sweeping gesture of her arm. “All this finery, all this ridiculous waste of resources, is all for the purpose of maintaining this ruse. Were I to speak openly of my disdain for such luxury and elitism, or of my strong belief in the dignity of all individuals, regardless of status—well.” She shook her head. “You see, it is one thing to engage in the _noble work of charity for one's people_ ,” she said, her tone saturated with sarcasm, “yet it is an entirely different thing to _associate oneself with_ ,” she accentuated the rest of her sentence with melodramatic flair, “vagabonds, scoundrels, smugglers…” 

The fire in Eldera’s eyes flickered briefly. “With _criminals_.”

 _So much for an apology_ , Han thought.

A look of chagrin drifted across Eldera's face as she spoke to Leia. “I fully admit I erred in not taking the full weight of your status into more thorough consideration before yesterday, and I sincerely apologize.” She paused, searching Leia’s face as if looking for something lost. “Who would have imagined...?” 

Leia nodded briefly, her expression neutral. “I understand.”

Eldera sighed, then frowned. “Unfortunately, the visceral realization yesterday of who you are now, and that you associate with...” she trailed off, glancing in Han’s direction before quickly looking away. “Well. I have been forced to reevaluate matters.”

To Han’s surprise, Leia responded heatedly, her hand darting briefly in his direction. “Eldera, the _criminals_ with whom the Rebellion associates are some of the finest beings I have ever met. They deserve the same—”

“— _Leia_ ,” Eldera interrupted with frustration, “I know that. It's our High Council which does not. And it is not at all clear whether my influence will be enough to overcome their biases against your or your associates’ _deleterious malfeasance_.” Her eyes rolled before losing focus.

Han snuck a glance at Leia. He hadn’t expected she would leap to the defense of criminals, let alone—if that little hand motion was to be believed—to _his_ defense.

“So last night…” Leia began.

Eldera sighed and her eyes refocused. “Last night, in realizing that our dear Han finds employment as a smuggler, I had two additional realizations. First, and most personal, I realized that I am not as immune from the prejudices held by my people as I had wished to believe.” She turned to Han, locking her gaze with his. “Within the course of one day, you have demonstrated qualities that should be the only basis of any judgement of you: attentiveness, thoroughness, quick thinking, thoughtfulness, and resourcefulness. And yet, last night, I judged you based solely on the factor of your legal status—and I judged you harshly, and mistakenly. And for that I sincerely apologize. I am sorry.”

Han forced a small nod of acknowledgment.

Eldera looked back at Leia and again sighed. “Second, I realized we find ourselves in a bind; I wish for nothing less than to fully support the Alliance, for _Dansend_ to fully support the Alliance, and I know there are some on the Council who share that wish. However,” Eldera paused, “there have been a series of events recently in several cities here on Dansend which have served to stoke the flames of world-wide anti-criminal rhetoric. The events themselves, although horribly unfortunate, are no worse or happening more frequently than similar events that have happened in the past. However, for reasons I can only attribute to—” Eldera paused, choosing her words gingerly, “—to _recent actions_ involving the Empire’s treatment of one of its worlds—,” Leia’s eyes dropped, understanding the reference, “—these local events seem to have provided an easy outlet for my people’s shock and despair. There has been an increase in anti-criminal sentiment unlike anything we’ve seen in half a century.”

Eldera looked at Han. “The good Captain is officially a criminal,” and turning back to Leia she shook her head. “The good Princess not only associates with known criminals she is herself now officially a criminal. I don't care about such things, but the Council as a collective _will_ ; there is simply too much history involved, too many old-fashioned views that are too deeply entrenched, and, more immediately, too many current issues to contend with. And there is the bind: if I come to them now, with an endeavor so overtly populated with criminals, they will only see it as something they must immediately reject, without any additional consideration.” She gave a short sigh. “Furthermore, they will see _me_ associating with criminals, and my ability to influence the Council will quickly vanish.

“Of course, that is only problematic if I wish to retain that influence,” Eldera added after a pause. “There are many ways one might help and the stakes may now demand it…” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting around the room. “All these resources…”

Han looked to Adende. The man seemed completely unfazed by the implication that Eldera might offload her riches to aid the Rebellion. Was this sort of dramatic thinking just something she did? Something Adende had learned to ignore it? Or was she serious? Maybe Adende was a close aide because of his support...

Leia, meanwhile, had shifted into problem-solving gear. “It seems we have many possibilities to discuss,” she said, adjusting her position in her seat.

Eldera’s gaze snapped back to Leia, her sights back on target. “Yes, quite right. Whatever the case with the Council, we are here now, the four of us, and there is much we can consider and arrange.” She turned to Han and fixed him with an intense look. “As for you, Captain Han Solo, it’s not every day I show my hand like this,” she said with a wink, but quickly sobered. “Leia trusts you, so I trust you.”

Somehow, despite being completely stunned, Han managed to again nod his acknowledgement. _What the hells just happened?_ he wondered as he chanced a look at Leia. 

Her only response was a small smile. 

Adende spoke up, addressing Leia. “If it pleases you, your Highness, perhaps I can begin with an update on the Dansend High Council’s recent discussions regarding bacta exports.”

Leia’s easy nod was at odds with her stiff, regal words. “It will do.”

Adende leaned casually on the arm of his chair, his body showing none of the deference implied in his words. “My thanks to you. Three days ago…”

**1930 hours**

Han sat in one of the guest suite’s chairs, Leia and Advena—Adende’s sister—on the suite’s couch, immersed in animated conversation. As the two women caught up on the events of the day, they kept glancing in his direction, making it clear they were not excluding him from the conversation.

Advena’s full attention turned suddenly towards him. “So, Han, be honest: how surprising was it when they dropped Elder House decorum this morning?”

“Not very,” he drawled, giving a noncommittal shake of his head. 

Leia rolled her eyes, but Advena’s didn’t waver. “Of course,” she said breezily, her gaze calculating. “I can see nothing surprises you.” 

“Fly careful, Han,” Leia warned playfully. “Advena once talked circles around one of the very most wily kings in the Houses. She’s good.”

Advena turned to Leia, her unspoken challenge to Han abandoned. “That’s right!” she cried in delight. “Oh, that was a fun conversation.”

Leia laughed but Han wasn’t about to let go of the challenge so quickly. “Maybe I’ve got something that kings don’t,” he said, his voice low.

Leia glanced at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher before redirecting the conversation. “To expand on Advena’s question, Elder House decorum is a complex set of etiquette rules and conversational exchanges. The reason we _got down to business_ this morning is because Eldera finally agreed to proceed without all the formalities.”

Han’s curiosity won out over his ego. “When’d she agree to do that?”

Leia shrugged. “Apparently sometime during the night. I had been hinting at it all day yesterday, but she wasn’t interested.”

“Huh? You did?”

Advena chuckled. “Elder House conversational etiquette involves an overreliance on subtlety. You never outright ask anything. It’s ridiculous, but eventually you pick it up.”

The whole of yesterday’s pointless, meandering chit chat suddenly took on a new dimension, yet something else caught his attention. “You picked it up?” he asked to Advena, making her smile. “Aren’t you…?”

Advena gave a quick shake of her head. “No, we’re not from an aristocratic family. We came to be with Eldera about ten years ago, when we were twelve. Before then—” Advena hesitated, her eyes flicking downwards, “—Adende and I had it rough. Eldera took us in, though, and… it did take a few years but we picked it up.”

Leia regarded her friend warmly. “You’re too humble. You fly circles around a lot of people who were raised in it.”

“Sounds like a game,” Han said.

“In many ways it is,” Advena answered.

“It’s also expected in certain settings,” Leia continued, “If you don’t follow the protocols, there can be consequences.”

Advena turned to Leia. “Do you remember the dinner on Relaltar 6 after the Queen regent’s recognition ceremony?”

“Oh, that was horrible!”

“The way the regent treated the footman—”

“—and the advisors tried to step in—”

“—but then the regent ignored them, she was awful—”

Han sat back as the two friends continued talking, this time fully caught up in their conversation. After a few minutes he rose from the couch, more than content to leave them to it and anyways, he had plenty to think about. All this protocol and etiquette. An aristocrat apologizing for her prejudice. Being welcomed into the circles of confidence of royalty. Close advisors who had come from “rough” backgrounds and yet were fully accepted by the royals. That it was even possible to pick up all these crazy rules...

From dealing with Jabba to gossiping with aristocrats, all within the span of just a few weeks. Who would have thought?

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	7. Negotiations Stall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon me if I get PT details horribly wrong later in the chapter. I’m just cooking in my OT kitchen, throwing in a dash of PT for flavor.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

_Sometimes things don’t go as you had hoped.  
Sometimes you have to play the hand you’ve been dealt._

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 7:  
Discussions Conclude**

****

****

**0800 hours**

“Leia dear,” Eldera said, her eyes twinkling as Advena arrived with a tray of morning breads. “I’m afraid these aren’t freshly baked but I think we can just get right down to business and not worry about such things, yes?”

Advena placed the tray on the discussion room table and revealed the contents. Leia’s eyes grew wide and Han worked to hide a smirk. The sweet and savory pastries were a common and popular Ithorian street food; apparently, Han noticed, Leia liked them, too.

“Eldera, Advena,” Leia said, reaching for one of the pastries, “my thanks to you!”

Unlike Han, Advena had no qualms about laughing. As Eldera reached for a pastry next, she motioned to Han to do the same. “Thank Adende; he picked these up a few days ago in Romel.”

“I will be sure to do that,” Leia said, biting into her chosen piece.

They all dove into their refreshments while Advena gathered some flimsies and settled in. “If it pleases you, your Highness, I thought we might spend a few minutes reviewing where discussions left off yesterday.”

Leia nodded, a pastry still in one hand. “It will do.”

Han looked back and forth between the two of them in confusion. The formality of their words, same as with the exchange between Leia and Adende yesterday, was completely out of alignment with their current body language and their friendly conversation last night. These aristocrats—and their aides—might like basic street food, but they still acted in strange ways. 

**1930 hours**

Back in the common room of their guest suite, Han and Leia were sitting on the floor across from each other at the low table. The viewscreen was turned on but the volume was set low, all but forgotten as they worked their way through their evening meal. 

Talks with Eldera had concluded unexpectedly earlier in the afternoon. Discussions had gotten off to a good start after the morning’s pastry treat, but the situation changed an hour later when news arrived of an emergency meeting of the Dansend High Council. Leia, Eldera, and Advena had all agreed that—as Eldera warned the previous day—far more groundwork would be needed in order to secure the Council’s support for the officially treasonous Rebellion. The four of them had then spent the better part of the rest of the day gaming out scenarios for approaching the Council.

A few options seemed promising. Still, they would require months worth of preparation time, primarily on Eldera’s part, and so, by mid-afternoon, the two politicians had determined there was nothing left for them to discuss for the time being, their talks for this visit having come to a conclusion. Arrangements were made for Leia and Han to depart first thing the following morning to return to Depryvet; if all went according to plan, they would reach Chewie and the Falcon by late evening and they would be back with the Alliance three days later.

After Advena left to attend to other business, Leia, Eldera, and Han spent the next few hours engaged in pleasant and thoroughly enjoyable conversation. Their plans to have dinner together were interrupted, however, when the noblewoman was called away to help with the planning of a regional philanthropic society gala ( _needs must, my dear; always keep up appearances!_ ). Knowing the following day of travel would be long, Leia and Han opted to take an early evening meal in their suite, with Advena to join them as soon as she could. 

Leia had relished those final few hours of conversation together with Eldera and Han. She delighted in spending time with the discreet royal firebrand; not only was the noblewoman deeply passionate and committed to the same ideals as Leia, she was incredibly cheeky as well. Once the constraining facade of aloof nobility was dropped, Eldera’s inexhaustible curiosity and quick, good-natured wit found freedom, and conversing with her was a joy.

Leia also found herself thoroughly enjoying seeing a different side of Han; despite his usual demeanor of indifference and apathy, he had demonstrated a surprisingly deep level of knowledge and insight about a number of issues. 

By the time the trio parted ways for the evening, Han had at last fully relaxed, his long legs stretched out before him as he leaned back in his chair, occasionally clasping his hands behind his head, displaying an ease she hadn’t seen in him since they had left the Falcon three days ago.

Though she dare not admit it to herself, those last few hours of relaxed conversation with Eldera and Han had felt like… _home_.

It made the countdown to their upcoming departure—and the return to war—all the more difficult.

“You gonna eat that one?”

“Hmm,” Leia responded, passing the bowl Han indicated. She didn’t find the mildly flavored dish particularly appealing, but Han couldn’t get enough of it. 

As he eagerly helped himself to the contents of the bowl Leia passed, she gestured towards a spicier dish near his elbow. “Pass that, please?”

Handing her the dish, he spoke around a mouth full of food. “So, I don’t get it. What was up with all the ‘if it pleases you,’ stuff?”

Leia looked at him blankly.

“Adende and Advena kept saying _if it pleases you_ when they were asking you something.”

“Ah,” Leia said, blinking in recognition. “It’s just an expression. Manners. Etiquette.”

Han shook his head. “They all turned off the etiquette and protocol pretty easily, even Eldera. That little bit from Adende and Advena stuck around though. Your answer did, too; _it will do_.”

Leia shrugged. “Habit, I suppose.”

“Pretty sycophantic habit.”

Leia’s eyes grew wide but she could see that the calm curiosity in Han’s expression held no ill intent. “I can see how the phrasing might seem that way,” she replied slowly. “It’s a very customary exchange, not much different than ‘may I’ or ‘please.’ It really is just proper manners.”

Han raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear you asking Adende or Advena if it pleased _them_ if _you_ did anything.”

Leia looked at him a beat, before narrowing her eyes, one corner of her mouth twitching. “You know big words like ‘sycophantic?’”

Han’s head fell back in laughter. “Yeah, and that stays between us. I have a reputation to keep, you know!”

Leia smiled, but she regarded him with seriousness. “The exchange is part of Elder House decorum. We did drop most of the etiquette, but I suppose it’s harder with certain basic, ingrained things.” Leia paused. “According to House hierarchies, my position is higher than Eldera’s, and certainly higher than Advena’s or Adende’s. So for me to say to one of them ‘if it pleases you’...” Leia drifted off, as if imagining the scenario in her mind. She raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “It would sound very strange.”

Han regarded her quietly. “I thought your Rebellion was all about equality and everything. Doesn’t sound very equal to me.”

Leia’s sigh was brief and harsh. “No. No, it doesn’t.” She looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. To his credit, Han seemed to realize he’d hit a nerve, and merely waited. “It’s a vestigial exchange. The words, the phrase itself; it’s not equal, not at all. But the _use_ of the exchange…” Leia thought for a moment. “It is technically a phrase of decorum but when used among friends or close associates there is a certain familiarity to it. Like teasing. Adende and Advena might say ‘if it pleases you’ to me, and I might respond accordingly, but there’s very little sense of actual authority or deference.”

“Is that how Adende and Advena see it?”

She looked at Han for a long moment, her eyebrows raising. She _wasn’t_ entirely sure how they might see it. 

Point made. 

They resumed eating, each absorbed in their own thoughts, the soft noise from the viewscreen filling the companionable silence.

“A vestigial exchange?” Han asked after a while.

Leia nodded but continued looking at her plate as she gathered a bite. “For many generations, the Houses have worked for democratization and the achievement of equity, but obviously, the effort is far from complete. There is still much work for the Houses to do.” She glanced at him as she raised her utensil. “That exchange is apparently one leftover.”

“The Houses want to give up power?”

“Yes. And no,” she responded. “Many of the Houses desire to shift towards forms of government that will more fully reflect the voices of their people. Unfortunately, there are enough that prefer holding to elitist ways, making this shift very difficult.” Her eyes drifted downwards in thought. “Many years ago, a few Houses moved very quickly in making the transition—over the span of just one or two generations. Unfortunately, they transitioned so quickly they ended up falling out of the hierarchy, therefore losing their ability to influence the other Houses or wider galactic policy. Other houses learned from this and moved more slowly and so have been able to retain their influence—Eldera’s house among them.”

Leia looked back to Han. “So, yes, many of the Houses desire to ‘give up power’ so that their people’s voices might be better heard. At the same time, they must retain enough power so that they can continue to influence the broader transition to democracy across the galaxy.”

Han shook his head in amazed disbelief. “You’re messing with my ideas about royalty, Your Worship.”

Leia gave him a half-heartedly exasperated glare. “There are drawbacks to power, Flyboy. Look at Naboo. They transitioned to an elective monarchy long ago, but the Nubian Houses held on to enough power that the planet retained a special place of influence in the Senate,” she said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

The implication, however, was lost on Han. He looked at her blankly. “So the drawback was…?”

Leia blinked. “The Emperor.”

“What about him?”

“Palpatine was in the Galactic Senate.”

Han nodded. “I think I remember that…”

“He was the Senator from Naboo.” Han’s eyes grew wide as the implication became clear. Leia nodded. “It was in part thanks to the influence Naboo retained among the Elder Houses that allowed Palpatine to have such influence over the Senate at large. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was very cunning and could twist any situation to his advantage.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “I know much of the records have been wiped,” she said, her lips forming a thin line. “How much did you learn about Palpatine growing up?”

Han shook his head. “Not a lot. But it’s not about records being wiped. It’s about interest.” Leia looked at him in puzzlement, so he continued. “Look. For most of us out in the galaxy, it just doesn’t matter who’s in charge or how they got there. We can’t do anything about it, so why waste the time worrying? Whether or not there’ll be something to eat, or a shelter over a head, or protection from the local crime boss—that’s a little more important than how some old guy found his way into power. And if you try to do something about it—well.” Han stopped short, and waved his hand in the air dismissively. 

“Well, what?” Leia encouraged.

Something about her openness only triggered Han’s world-weary cynicism. His eyes narrowed as he leaned back away from the table, one hand on the floor for support, the other obliquely referencing himself with a quick gesture. “Well, two options. You go bad to work your way up or you go bad just to work your way anywhere.”

She tilted her head, frustration starting to creep into her voice. “Your trade may be considered illegal, Han, but that’s very different from being _bad_.”

“It’s also very different than being good,” he parried, suddenly suspicious of where the conversation was heading.

“Why do you keep insisting that you’re not good?” she countered.

“Don’t assume things about me you don’t know.”

“Then tell me what it is I don’t know.”

“Look, your Worshipfulness,” he said, clenching his jaw, “you’re not going to recruit me.”

Leia froze, then leaned away from the table. “That’s right. You’re leaving.”

“I’ve got things I gotta do.”

“Of course,” she said icily.

The suite door chime sounded once, then twice. Leia looked away and Han rose from the floor to answer the door, welcoming Advena into the suite.

For the rest of their meal, conversation between the three remained light and pleasant yet the easy, relaxed rhythm the two had found in the course of conversation over the past two days had been broken. A line had been drawn, a strict demarcation that neither was willing or knew how to cross.

After the food was finished and the dishes cleared, the smuggler took his leave and went back to the sleeping quarters, leaving the princess and royal aide to themselves. 

\--||--

“So you really are going back to the Alliance?”

Leia responded easily to Advena’s equestion. “For now, yes.” 

“And then what?”

“I am… I am open to all possibilities.” Somehow, this was harder to answer. “At present, I’m providing more direct assistance to the Alliance forces.”

Advena stared at her friend. “You’re joining the fight.”

“I have been part of ‘the fight’ for some time now.”

Advena slowly shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

Leia’s eyebrows raised. 

“The _military?_ ” Advena opened her hands wide.

“Is there something wrong with joining the military?”

“No, of course n—” Advena reared back, then stopped with a quick, annoyed exhale. “Don’t do that. You know perfectly well how I feel about these things. I’m talking about _you_. 

“Striving for peaceful and diplomatic resolutions to conflicts has never meant I do not support armed forces.”

“I know that, Leia. But you’ve never indicated you wished to follow a military path yourself. You’ve always been more interested in political life.”

Leia looked away. She had come to her decision some time ago, but it didn’t make it any easier. “There is no other option, nowhere else for me to go. And anyone who harbors me will be in danger themselves as long as the Empire holds power.”

“You came here,” Advena said quietly, a challenge in her voice.

But Leia could only sign in exasperation. “I thought Eldera understood the situation.”

Advena relented. “I know. None of us thought, really… it’s just difficult to think of you as…”

Leia nodded, but her friend deserved more. “I didn’t reach out to Eldera without first considering the dangers. Eldera is one of the very few who can hold talks both safely and relatively easily.” Her shoulders lifted in resignation. “But the fact remains that I no longer enjoy the freedom of being a senator or a prin—I can’t operate in the same way anymore. I can’t just go where I please now, not without endangering others. So I have to find other ways to fight and I _want_ to fight.”

“So you’re giving up politics.”

“ _No_ ,” Leia responded quickly. “I...I’ll just redirect those skills elsewhere for the time being.”

Advena rolled her eyes. “Fine. So you’re giving up diplomatic missions then?”

“ _Refraining_ from diplomatic missions.” Leia’s gaze lowered. “For the time being.” 

“I see.” Advena paused. “So this… this could be the last we hear from you—for awhile, anyways...”

A deep breath. “Likely.”

“But the _military_ —”

“—is filled with fine beings, all of whom have been harmed by the Empire in one way or another, and who wish to fight; who wish to see the Empire’s oppressive reign end. There is no better place for me to be.”

Advena looked hard at her friend. “Are you ready for this life?”

Leia held her head defiantly. “I can hold my own in a firefight you know.”

“So I hear. But do you really _want_ to be there?” Advena broke off, taking in Leia’s continued look of defiance. “I just never thought you’d choose this path.”

Her eyes losing focus, Leia hesitated. “There’s a lot I wouldn’t have chosen.”

Advena dipped her head, then reached out and took her friend’s hand tenderly in her own. “Leia,” she began softly. “I know you. I know how you feel about life. About the _taking_ of life.” She continued gently. “You going out there and killing stormtroopers won’t bring any of them back.”

Leia’s eyes filled with tears. “I know that. I also know now that the Empire won’t be stopped by peaceful means.” She swallowed around a lump in her throat and withdrew her hand from Advena’s, folding them tightly in her lap. “My parents—my father… They tried. They tried through peaceful, legal means. They tried, so hard, for nearly two decades. Twenty _years_ and it’s only gotten worse.” She paused, fighting back her tears. “Far, far worse.”

The women were silent for a long while, holding the heavy burden of reality between them. Finally, Advena broke the silence. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

A trace of a smile brushed across Leia’s lips. She glanced at her friend, a hint of gallows humor in her voice. “I _was_ slated for execution, you know. Before...” She trailed off, her gaze growing hard. “I’m living on borrowed time. I owe this to… so many people, to do whatever is in my power to stop the Empire. They _must_ be stopped.”

“I know,” Advena said quietly, “what I mean is… The military, the intentional taking of life, even with the motivation to save far more than the ones sacrificed—you do know that even if the Emperor himself, Vader, and all the moffs in all occupied systems were to die, there would still be others ready to step in to try and keep the Empire going.”

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight the Empire _now_.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m not saying don’t fight. I’m not saying you shouldn’t fully join the Alliance forces if that’s really what you want to do. I’m saying…I’m saying, by joining the military, you will have to do things that… that go fully against so much of what you hold dear.” Advena took a deep breath. “I’m saying, I don’t want to lose _you_. How long will you stay in the fight? When will you know you’ve done all you can do? How will you know when it’s time for you to _stop_ , before you’re not yourself anymore?”

Leia looked at her friend. She could not answer.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	8. Jump

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Or, a jump.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 8:  
Departing Lady Eldera’s Estate**

****

****

**0700 hours**

Imposing clouds had gathered in the Lake Hemeria region, casting a grim pall over Lady Eldera’s estate in the early morning light. A thick mist hung in the air; a normal early-season rain, Eldera had explained, wonderful for the blooms, horrible for one’s disposition.

Han’s disposition had sure darkened to match the clouds. As they all stood by an obscured doorway at the side of the estate, exchanging farewells before entering the idling landspeeder, it was as if the past two days had never occurred. Eldera was again flighty and aloof. Leia was again as cool as marble. Adende was quiet and reserved at the controls of the landspeeder, and even Advena, standing to Eldera’s side, could hardly spare Han a second glance. 

_Right_. Hey, what else should he expect? Like Leia had pointed out last night, he wasn’t sticking around for long once they got back to the Alliance. So it wasn’t like he was a close advisor or anything; he was just the hired help.

Eldera and Leia exchanged a delicate, practiced embrace. “Dear Leia, do take good care of yourself. I worry you may have dreadful weather. One can never be too careful. Do stay safe.”

Leia returned the sentiment. “Thank you, Lady Eldera. It is very dismal but I trust better weather will come. May you remain safe as well.” 

Han, back to the role of security guard, tried not to roll his eyes as he opened the speeder’s door to cover Leia’s entrance into the vehicle. 

But she didn’t move towards the speeder; instead, she clasped the older woman’s hands. “Eldera,” Leia said, searching for words, “thank you. Seeing you has brought me a profound joy that shall carry me through the worst storms. Be well. Please.”

Just as Han thought Leia might be lingering a little too long, she released Eldera’s hand and entered the speeder. No warmth shared between the royals here after all.

Suddenly, however, he found Eldera grasping his own hands. Surprised, he looked down; the aloof noble was momentarily absent and instead, that inner fire blazed in Eldera’s eyes.

“Han, my dear Han. You take good care, too. Of yourself, of her. She—you—” Eldera swallowed hard. “You take good care. I want to see _both_ of you again.”

Her sincerity struck him to the core. He could almost feel the weight of her plea, the strength of her desire to protect Leia and even himself. 

He nodded. 

Then, as suddenly as she had grasped his hand she released it, turning away to confer with Advena. The younger woman’s eyes flicked between Han and the waiting speeder several times before she brought her full attention to Eldera. 

Han had been dismissed.

He took his seat in the speeder and Adende set out on the pathway. A few moments later, as the speeder turned a corner and Han looked back at the estate, he could still see the two women standing at the doorway, huddled closely together, gazes locked onto the departing speeder.

**1200 hours**

Resting his head against the back of his seat, Han took in everything around them. A few other beings occupied their long-haul general-fare ground-transport cabin ( _just buy your tickets and board; no need to interact with the transport crew_ ), but most were either catching up on sleep or various local business reports and paid little attention to their fellow passengers.

Outside the ground-transport, the lush, rolling hillsides of the Lake Hemeria countryside had given way to unremarkable terrain. The flat, featureless landscape might have had a unique beauty to it, but any natural appeal was obscured by a monotonous wash of grey as the clouds extending from the Lake Hemeria region blanketed the land in toneless light.

The still, quiet figure seated beside him, obscured by a hooded, grey cloak, fit right in. 

Leia had been silent since Adende had dropped them at the Napele transport station a few hours ago, the first stop in their circuitous route back to Depryvet and, finally, the Falcon. He wasn’t sure why she’d been quiet for so long; she definitely wasn’t relaxed. 

He spent a few more moments looking at her, then returned his gaze to the front of the cabin.

**1230 hours**

The whir of repulsorlifts caught Han’s attention causing his muscles to tense and his mind to go on full alert. His hand went to his blaster while Leia’s hooded form shifted and turned in the direction of the sound. At the far end of the cabin a woman was pushing a hovercart, making her way down the center aisle...

Han’s muscles loosened and he rolled his eyes. Sure, he was prepared to blast their way out of trouble if needed—but the pre-packaged food the woman was selling from her cart probably wasn’t _that_ bad.

“Mealtime,” he muttered to Leia, relaxing his blaster hand. “Whaddya want?”

“Just get two of whatever you’re having,” Leia muttered, pulling her hood further down over her face. 

\--||--

That, and a brief thank you for getting her food, were the only words Leia uttered during their mid-day meal time.

Fine by him; it gave him plenty of time to reflect on the events of the past few days. Watching the royal diplomats at work had turned out to be interesting; there were times he would have sworn he was seeing their true characters when it turned out only to be an act, and there were times he thought they were joking only to realize they were being dead serious. He had felt completely out of his element.

Even so, he also felt he was beginning to recognize key behaviors, little tells. The beings in cantinas and the underworld he could read in part because he’d spent so much time in such places; these past few days, he’d been given an intense, immersive introduction to the world of the aristocracy and their rules of protocol, and he was developing a new take on those grating tones of voice and gestures. The regal airs were intentional, and often meant something. They were usually more than dumb rules and manners; they were a kind of professional behavior.

He knew that he and Chewie talked to each other and acted differently when it was just the two of them in the privacy of the Falcon versus when they were dealing with Jabba or employers. He thought he could make out similar shifts between private and professional behavior in Leia and Eldera and her aides. _Hells_. Maybe he was beginning to understand these royals after all...

**1900 hours**

… Beginning to understand these royals? _Yeah. Scratch that_.

They had switched from rail to air transport, had stopped for an evening meal, and were about to board their final ground transport. Leia had remained silent the whole time. After the last two days of direct and open discussions, he had started to feel like he was finding his bearings. Now, however, Leia’s hours-long, detached silence was again interfering with his navigational systems…

**2050 hours**

Their cabin was slightly more crowded than the one earlier in the day, but as happened before, most of the passengers were too preoccupied with their own business to pay attention to anyone else. 

Through the viewport on his right, Han could still see some scenery in the dim light of the evening. It wasn’t much to look at. The landscape was now littered with discarded buildings and broken-down equipment; it was a wasteland as far as the eye could see. The relative beauty of the morning views were long gone.

Leia sat next to him, her face turned to the viewport and shielded from his view, still hooded in her cloak, and still silent. Nearly the entire day had passed and Leia had said barely five sentences to him. Not that he expected… well, he wasn’t sure what he expected but after several unsuccessful attempts to get her to talk, he didn’t know what to make of it. 

_… Do you think a Princess and a guy like me…?_

Han snorted at the memory. He’d been joking then, and it was definitely a joke now. Who did he think he was? Nothing but the hired help. No, worse than that. A _criminal_. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a slow, shaky breath. Leia’s hand went briskly to her face, then returned to the folds of her cloak. He only caught a quick glimpse but the wiped tears on her fingers were unmistakable and made his stomach plummet. He kicked himself for being so thick, for thinking her day-long silence had been about him. Maybe Leia was just dealing with other stuff right now. 

**2200 hours**

Chewie stood at the foot of the Falcon’s ramp, bowcaster by his side, and greeted Han and Leia as they arrived at the landing bay. Han felt a swell of relief; Eldera’s estate was nice—but this was home. Still, they couldn’t afford to waste time; Chewie had alerted them earlier in the day to a subtle shift in the attitudes of the spaceport personnel, and they knew they needed to get off-planet soon.

To his surprise, Leia followed the two pilots into the cockpit. Running through the preflight checklist, Han glanced over his shoulder. “We’re gonna be tied up for a while. Gotta make a series of hyper jumps on the outbound,” he said, thinking she might not know what this initial leg of the trip would involve.

“How many?” she asked, her voice cracking from lack of use.

Han glanced at his navicomputer, his fingers pressing buttons on a separate console. “Seven.”

Curiosity seeped through her weariness. “That seems like a lot.”

His fingers flying over a few more switches, Han noted with appreciation that she was not surprised by the need for the jumps, only the amount. “Yeah, three would normally be enough to scramble most flight tracers, but Chewie found out about some private tracking stations near here. We need a few more jumps to really scramble our trail.”

The preflight checks done, he half turned in his chair to face her. “It’ll take about an hour before we finally settle into flight. Feel free to stay up here, but you might want to go on back.”

Leia’s eyes drooped slightly and she nodded, rising from her seat.

“If it pleases you.” Han’s eyes flew open before he could shut his mouth. Where had _that_ come from?

Leia’s gaze met his, looking at him for the first time since the morning. A small smile began to curve her lips, gently softening her tired features. 

“It will—” she began, but catching herself, she changed her words and quietly continued. “Thank you.”

Once she had left the cockpit, Chewie turned to look at Han. A little smile appeared on the Captain’s face as he watched the retreating princess.

_[If it pleases you?]_

Han immediately sobered and the smile vanished. “Yeah, what about it? It’s Royal etiquette or something. Might have to use it sometime.”

Chewie regarded him with a skeptical eye. _[When? I thought you were in a hurry to go pay off Jabba.]_

“Never said I wasn’t,” Han said, scowling as he turned back to face his console. “No harm hanging around for work and credits where no one’s waiting to stab you in the back, though.” 

They had just cleared Dansend’s gravity well and were preparing to enter hyperspace when Han muttered under his breath.

“No harm trying to cheer people up, either.”

Chewie glanced sideways at his friend as Han made the first jump.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	9. In Transit

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 9:  
En Route to the Alliance**

**0415 hours**

Leia looked at the chrono in the faintly lit bunkroom. The hour since she had last checked the time was the longest stretch of unconsciousness she'd had all night. Thankfully, even though her sleep had been restless, it had at least been free from nightmares.

She closed her eyes, hoping to forestall the arrival of morning just a little longer.

Yet, sleep did not come to her; nor did the energy to rise for the day and begin working. Instead, she only felt a persistent, simmering frustration, the same immobilizing sense of disquiet that had gnawed at her since her conversation with Advena two nights ago.

Her eyes still shut, she shifted onto her back with a huff. Shouldn't she be able to sleep through the night consistently by now? What had happened had happened. As for any stress she was feeling, it was certainly enough to leave her exhausted most days; why then wasn't she crashing to sleep?

As for her behavior, she was self-aware enough to realize how appalling her silence had been yesterday; despite spending the entire day with Han, she had spoken barely ten sentences to him.

The conversation with Advena had weighed heavily on her mind, however, and she just hadn't been able to muster the energy to be sociable. That in itself was frustrating; the discussion with her friend had not covered anything that she hadn't already debated with others or even _herself_ over the past few years and especially in the past few weeks. Why would it bother her so much now?

It had been such a pleasant few days at Eldera's and she had been in her element. All the subtle phrasings, the political wrangling and angling. Even the material trappings of Eldera's wealth had somehow been pleasant, despite being off-putting in their ostentatiousness. The familiarity had been comforting, and she had felt at ease; knowing what to do and how to act, she had felt like—

_Home._

She had felt like she'd been at home.

Her breath freezing in her lungs, she opened her eyes, willing herself to ward off the brewing tempest, and stared at the ceiling. In the dim cabin lighting, the evenly spaced shadows of the ceiling's rivets were the only indication of the rivets themselves, painted the same metal gray as the ceiling, undetectable yet there, ultimately impermanent in nature yet currently stable…

While her reserves were occupied fighting the impending storm of emotions, another part of her was left wide open, allowing Advena's questions to again drift through her thoughts. Only this time, laid bare and vulnerable by the late hour, Leia's mind provided answers far more raw than any revealed so far.

_...How long will you stay in the fight?..._

__

__

_...When will you know you've done all you can do?..._

Like she had said to Advena that evening, she had already been "in the fight" for a number of years, just covertly. Indeed, this trip to the fleet was only her second time traveling to the Alliance itself, or rather, any of its core fleet groups; until several weeks ago, her missions had always been arranged through intermediaries—often her father, but not always—and that arrangement had worked well.

First as a young Elder House royal, then as a new and outspoken Senator, she was often in the galactic spotlight. Rather than risk attracting suspicion by disappearing for days at a time, it was far better for intermediaries to come to her with new missions; she could simply slip her missions into existing travels or create new itineraries easily justifiable as part of her Senate or public service activities. In this way she had been able to continue both the work of her hard-earned position in the Senate as well as the work of aiding the nascent resistance movements…

That is, until several weeks ago, when her father had sent what turned out to be his last communication to her, urgently asking her to retrieve the Death Star plans.

Before then, she had eagerly sought out opportunities to help the cause and had been willing to go to extreme measures to do what was necessary: the stakes were that high. Back then, she had repeatedly assured others that she understood the risks, that she understood what could happen…

...but _after_ everything, she had quickly realized how little one can truly understand something they have yet to experience. How could she have truly prepared for those risks she only thought she understood? How could she have possibly fathomed how bad things could get before they actually happened? How _would_ she ever know if she had done all she could do, if things could still get worse than she could imagine?

Would she ever really reach a state where she could trust her judgement about things to come, or her readiness for them?

_…You've never indicated you wished to follow a military path yourself. You've always been more interested in political life…_

__

__

_...are you ready?..._

Before… Leia was now beginning to realize she had never intended to overtly join the Alliance or its military forces. Not because she didn't wish to or because she was against it, but because she hadn't _needed_ to; she hadn't even needed to consider it.

Working as a Senator had been a remarkable way to support the cause, allowing her to covertly utilize her position and her demonstrated strengths. Certainly, her secret missions had often been dangerous and her preparedness for armed responses—both defensive and offensive—had served her well. Even so, it had been possible to offer substantial and meaningful aid while staying out of direct action and remaining primarily in the political arena, as her father and others had done for years.

After… there had been no choice other than to travel immediately to Yavin IV, the desperate need to deliver the means to prevent further death and devastation overwhelming and surpassing any other need or desire.

And then, the only option had been to stay with the Alliance and find a new way to support the cause. So she had joined the forces. For the past six weeks, she had been working to create a place for herself where previously there had been none. For the past six weeks, her daily life on a military base living and training with relative strangers had been so different from the life she had known before… so different that she could almost forget, if she tried hard enough... so different she could forge ahead, not looking back for too long...

But _now_ … Now, she had just spent several days at Eldera's estate, slipping comfortably into a way of life that was so very familiar. She had instinctively understood her place and the gestures and exchanges which had been expected and appropriate for her position _before_. She had been with people she knew, and who knew her, _before_. She had been reminded of what it felt like to be _home_.

Now, she felt the stark, visceral reality: she was heading off to fight in a war she had never intended to fully join.

And there would be no going home.

_...do you really want to be there, fighting in a war?—_

_—what I_ want _is dead and drifting in a big cloud of blown up rocks and dust._

Leia squeezed her eyes shut as tears overwhelmed her.

\--||--

Depleted and weary, her eyes eventually focused on the chrono once again. Her heart yearned to remain motionless but her thoughts, like the time, resumed their forward motion. Time would only ever march on, she knew—marked by advancing chronos and changing seasons, the ebb and flows of rivers, the motions of stars and planets. By births. And deaths.

The mission to Eldera's had been pleasant. But those times were gone.

She had to move forward; there were other ways she could offer her assistance to the Rebellion. She had been raised to lead her people and had trained hard to learn how best to represent them; many of them were still living and would still look to her, needing and expecting her leadership in these dark times. Others in the Alliance were already doing so. As was becoming apparent to the High Council, she had developed a solid understanding of strategy and the workings of the Alliance through her many conversations with her parents. And, as she had told Advena, she was good in a firefight and a decent enough pilot as well, skills that had caught the attention of the Alliance trainers in the course of her basic training sessions. All of these things and more she could harness and offer in an effort to defeat the Empire, for it was becoming horribly clear that despite the destruction of the Death Star, the Empire did not need a massive superweapon to hold onto its tyrannical rule. The Empire _had_ to be stopped; too many worlds continued to suffer under its oppressive rule.

So now… now there was a war to win and she would do everything within her power to fight.

Regardless of what she might want for herself.

**0940 hours**

Leia leaned back from her datapad with a frustrated sigh, the third time in fifteen minutes. On the trip to Dansend she had found the Captain's bunkroom a suitable place to work, but now she was having a difficult time focusing.

A faint echo of a mallet connecting with metal reverberated through the bunkroom door as Han and Chewie continued their repairs in the main hold, the occasional clangs and rattles of their work a strange accompaniment to her silent reading. She thought it might be nice to join them in the hold—that is, it might be easier to work out there, with a little background noise…

She shook her head and looked back to her datapad reminding herself that, like the trip to Eldera's, this wasn't a pleasure cruise; she was here, on this ship, for business.

**1100 hours**

Willing to lose a battle to win a war, Leia decided to admit defeat and seek out that background noise after all. Datapad in hand, she ventured out of the bunkroom for the main hold, prepared to work on her reports at the gaming table. As she neared the area, however, she began to reconsider, as the reverberations of repair work were joined by the harsh sounds of Han and Chewie bickering.

"No! Red goes there…"

Chewie growled tersely and Han shook his head in frustration. "I didn't say to do that! When did you do that!?"

The co-pilot threw out a paw, ready to fire back, when he stopped, seeing Leia standing at the hold's entrance. Han whipped around, his hard expression losing a bit of its edge as he too saw Leia. But only a bit.

"Yeah? Need anything?"

The bite in his tone hit Leia, reminding her of her rudeness yesterday. Resolving to make an effort today, she attempted to adopt a conciliatory tone.

"I thought I might work at the hologame table this afternoon, but if my presence will interrupt your repairs, I'm happy to find someplace else."

Han looked at her, then furrowed his brows. "House decorum?" he asked pointedly.

Leia blinked. Finally catching—and somewhat amused by—his assumption that she had reverted to the staid manners of Elder House decorum, she tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her mouth. "Consideration and civility."

Han pursed his lips, but he eased up. "Yeah. Well, look. You don't need to worry about decorum or manners or anything on this ship. Other than basic ship protocols, you just sit wherever you like, whenever you like."

Leia nodded her understanding. "Thank you."

Han nodded briefly, then turned back to his task. It was when Leia glanced at the Wookiee that she saw him regarding Han intently, but Han was oblivious to his co-pilot's reaction.

Chewie's eyes met Leia's, silent acknowledgement passing between the two of them, before Chewie returned to his task as well. Taking a seat at the dejarik table, Leia powered on her datapad and resumed her work.

**1230 hours**

"Leia? Can you hold this switch?"

She looked up from her datapad. The two pilots had been at the same repair project since she sat down, and the sounds of their work had indeed provided an environment conducive to focusing on her reports. So conducive, in fact, that she had become engrossed in her reading some time ago, tuning out the details of the pilots' discussions. She was surprised to now find both Han and Chewie looking at her expectantly, each several meters away from the other, each holding some switch or button in place.

"Of course," she said, putting her datapad down and going over to Han. "Here?" she asked, taking over the switch in question.

"Yeah, that's great," Han said, walking over to the engineering station. He turned his attention to Chewie. "Ready?"

The Wookiee wuffed his agreement as Han pressed a series of buttons on the console. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a light on the console responded, changing from yellow to green.

Han grinned. "All right," he said, toggling a switch and turning a dial a few clicks, returning the light to yellow.

Chewie growled what Leia believed was a question.

"Yeah, it should be," Han replied. "At least we can try the bypass now," and looking to Leia, he walked back to her. "You can let go. It's fine if it flips back; I'll get it from here." He beamed. "And thanks."

His grin was infectious. Leia returned the smile as she removed her hand from the switch. "Happy to help."

**1730 hours**

The three occupants of the Falcon were still in the main hold, Han and Chewie finishing their repair project, Leia ostensibly continuing her report. Her datapad, however, was currently resting on the dejarik table, powered down from prolonged idleness.

"It's what you gotta do when you run long-haul flights," Han was saying, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, his eyes fixated on the wires he was twisting together. "You spend too much time doing anything other than major repairs in port, it costs time and money."

"What if you don't have the part you need?" Leia asked, as Chewie handed Han the end of another wire.

"Well," he began, pausing to properly align the new wire with the existing ones, "sometimes you can wait until you get to the next port or station, see if you can find the part. Of course sometimes you just—" a spark flew from a connection a few meters away. Han looked up at Leia. "Can you—"

But Leia was already on her way to the engineering console, flipping the same switch she had tended to three times in the last ten minutes. This time, she decided to just keep standing at the console.

"Thanks," Han said, looking back to the wires he was connecting. "Sometimes you just make do with what you got. A lot of the junk back in the cargo hold is stuff we've kept around for things like that." He took another wire from Chewie. "Never know when you might need, say, the ring cap from a Whyren's bottle. Sure, Whyren's is good to have around anyways, top shelf stuff, but—" he twisted the final wires together "—they also use a unique combination of metals in those rings." He began to cap the connection. "They're real good for some of the connections in the quad lasers. Makes for more efficient transmission times between the targeting systems and firing mechanisms. There," he said, stopping his task, the connection cap in place.

He looked up at Leia. "Right. Go ahead and hit the small indicator on the scope. No, not that one—" he said, and Leia moved to a different area on the panel, raising her eyebrows to request confirmation, "—yeah. What's the reading?"

Chewie looked at Han with what seemed like surprise, before looking at Leia. Not for the first time that afternoon, she got the distinct impression that Han didn't often ask others to help on his ship.

"Point two three em-vee per millisec."

Leia stepped aside as Han joined her at the scope, watching its display as he turned a few dials. Straightening up to his full height, he nodded once with stoic satisfaction. "Done."

Chewie called softly.

"Yeah," Han replied. He spoke to Leia, explaining their exchange. "The load's down to below specs. We're good."

"Are congratulations in order?"

Han looked at her, stoicism giving way to a satisfied smirk. "All in a day's work."

Chewie let out a string of quiet growls.

Han considered him for a moment, his smirk fading, then glanced at Leia. "Uh, Chewie was just talking about another repair we've been wanting to do for awhile. Haven't had a chance to do it."

Uttering another quiet string, the Wookiee pointed at Leia, apparently urging Han to say more. "He—ah," continued Han, avoiding looking at Leia, "the repair he's talking about needs a third set of hands, and you know, stopping in port long enough to—"

"—I'd be happy to help," Leia said, smiling at Chewie.

Han paused, his expression unreadable. "It'll take a solid two day-cycles to complete," he said. "Gonna have to interrupt those reports you've been working on. You got time for that?"

She hesitated, trying to detect any hidden meaning in his words, any offer of an immediate escape clause. But she sensed Han was asking from a place of pure practicality; the work needed to be done and would require her presence, so if she wasn't available, best to speak up now rather than shirk her duties later.

She glanced at her datapad, abandoned on the dejarik table. She did have work left to do and the remaining pieces _were_ important, though not urgent or particularly onerous. She should be able to spare the time… Of course, it was just this morning she had reminded herself of her path forward. Her activity needed to align with the mission of the Alliance; her time and energy needed to be devoted to that and that alone. Yet already, she had deviated from that mission in spending half the day watching and helping with repairs. What did it matter that this ship and her crew had been of great help to her and the Alliance? She didn't owe them anything beyond their negotiated payment. She should finish her reports and review ongoing projects, staying in the quiet solitude of the bunkroom where she would be undistracted, alone in quiet isolation—

She looked back to Han. "Let me know what I can do."

Some flicker of something open passed across Han's features before steely determination took its place.

"All right," he replied, and turned back to Chewie. "We start first thing tomorrow."

**2200 hours**

_"Damn!"_

Chewie poked his head out from the galley entrance. Leia had turned in for the night some time ago and Han was sitting alone at the dejarik table. Datapad in hand, a look of frustration was plastered all over his face.

Chewie chuckled. _[Pit Marauders again?]_

Han's frustration turned to a scowl. "Nah, some time-out thing." He tapped the datapad a few times. "Some sort of countdown before I can restart the level..."

_[You didn't play it while bumping elbows with royals?]_

Han shook his head dismissively. "Had other things to do."

Chewie nodded and retreated back to the galley to finish his tasks. _[It is a feature of this new version]_ he called out. _[If you abandon the quest for more than two standard days, the countdown is introduced. You must resume the quest for five standard days before the countdown can be removed.]_

"You're kidding."

_[No. You can pay to remove the countdown before the five-day mark. It is only a credit or so.]_

Han rolled his eyes and turned the datapad off, dropping it on the table. "Figures.

Chewie emerged from the galley. _[Don't developers need to earn their living as well? I am done. Galley is yours.]_

"Yeah." Han rose from the table as Chewie turned to his sleep area. "Night, pal."

He entered the galley to finish his share of the tasks, pausing as he wrapped things up. Since that first night Leia had a nightmare he had been setting a glass of water on the counter before turning in. He had even set out glasses when they were on Dansend, just in case, although they hadn't been needed while they were on-planet.

He straightened up, bristling a bit as he set another full glass on the counter. Hey, it wasn't like he was doing this just for her. Sometimes he liked some water in the night, too. Convenient, was all.

\--||--

_...majestic, snow-capped mountains stood watch over the grassy meadow below, peaks glowing warmly in the light of the setting sun… people gathered, happy, and dancing… mother and father nearby, smiling lovingly… Eldera and Advena standing with them… all four reaching to her, calling out for her to join them but remaining just beyond reach… beckoning… pleading… calling out as they slipped away… into darkness…_

Leia woke with a start, shaking. She knew this dream. And knew where it usually went. She knew she should be thankful that she had woken up before it got any worse but she only felt a growing fear, a drowning desperation. Why had her nightmare returned, and with Eldera and Advena in it?

It was quite some time before she returned to sleep.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	10. Too Close

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**MIssion Day 10:  
En Route to the Alliance**

****

****

**0800 hours**

Chewie had removed the deck’s hull plating from the first area they would be working on, and a short distance away Han had used the dejarik table to lay out an array of tools, all placed in specific arrangements. Leia watched with fascination; for a man who seemed intent on demonstrating lackadaisical nonchalance, the purposefulness with which Han had arranged the tools was a surprise.

“You know any of these?” Han asked, turning to her and gesturing to the tools.

She didn’t, and her instinct to conceal her ignorance flared up with force. Still, she heard nothing in his question other than a simple request to assess how best to move forward. “It might be helpful if you could go over them.”

Han hesitated but proceeded without comment, giving her a very basic yet thorough walk through of the assembly of various devices. He took each tool in turn, naming them and describing their purpose, even going so far as to mention various steps in the repair project they were about to begin.

“There you have it,” Han finished. 

Leia, however, was having a difficult time containing the wry smile threatening to break out across her face.

Han looked at her quizzically. “What?”

“Crash courses in the tools of our trades,” she said, her smile widening. “First, eating utensils; now, power tools.”

Han laughed warmly. “Course, you use the wrong power tool, you might break something.”

She raised her eyebrows. “In some situations, you use the wrong fork, you might break a trade deal.”

A pause. “You’re joking.”

Still smiling, Leia shook her head. “No.”

“Good thing I only got five forks on board.”

Leia grinned.

**1230 hours**

“...thing is, a lot of humans have these crazy ideas in their head about Wookiees. A whole hell of a lot of it is...” Han trailed off, his fork hovering above his mid-day meal.

Chewie, however, simply leaned back from the table, clasped his hands behind his head and wuffed a response. 

“He says it’s good for some fun, though.” Han rolled his eyes and snorted, responding to Leia’s inquisitive look.

That was unexpected. Looking between the two, she was unsure whether to be amused or concerned at this claim of “fun” regarding extreme prejudice. And yet, the twinkle in Han’s eyes was as bright as a star and Chewie’s overall bearing could only be described as smug. She went with gentle concern.

“Fun?”

Han looked at her, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Oh, yeah,” Han replied, his serious tone laced with something mischievous, his smile growing positively devilish.

Leia knew they were preparing to pull some sort of prank on her. Even so, Chewie’s bearing became quite intimidating, fixing Leia with a hard glare and growling a low, guttural sound.

She met his challenging stare head on. “I was in the Imperial Senate, remember? You’ll have to try harder than that.”

“Ok, Chewie,” Han said, his tone filled with feigned resignation, “I think you’d better tell her.”

Chewie let loose a string of thunderous growls, contorting his features in a menacing display. 

Leia fought to keep her expression calm. She reminded herself he was surely joking, intentionally trying to provoke her, but still, his voice and physical gestures elicited an instinctive fear response. She found him downright scary.

Refusing to back down, she held Chewie’s stare while addressing Han. “And just what did he tell me?”

Han dropped his own voice to its lowest calibre, slowly leaning towards her. “He said that sweet baby pittens splashing in water fountains are stinky little fluff balls.”

Leia burst into laughter, Han and Chewie joining her.

**1315 hours**

“...but the connections can come loose, so be careful,” Han explained, showing Leia a collection of wiring buried in an access panel. 

She listened intently. He was walking her through a more complicated task and she wanted to make sure there would be no reason to question the trust he had placed in her. “What’s the primary concern in this case?”

“You can get hurt. It’s not a critical system and the way it’s set up, you don’t need to worry about damaging the ship. But when we start testing, you could get burned pretty bad. So, just, don’t get too close.”

Leia nodded. “Don’t get too close. Got it.”

“Right,” Han said, moving onto the next instructions. “So then, when we…”

**1930 hours**

“Almost, just—”

“—here?”

“Yeah,” Han nodded to Leia. “Just keep that connector on the pin.” Han turned in the direction of the rear hold. “Chewie!” he bellowed. “Try it now!”

Turning to him, she found Han staring intently at a darkened indicator light above the connector she was holding in place. His hands were occupied with a switch box and dial a few paces away and she watched him with interest as he waited anxiously for the light to turn on. 

Chewied called out from the rear hold. 

“No,” Han called back in frustration. “It didn’t—” he started saying, just as the indicator light turned on. “Wait!” Han called again, beginning to grin. He turned the dial a few clicks to the right and the light began to blink. Flicking the switch box a few times he tested and then confirmed that the light in fact turned on and off in response to flipping the switch.

“All right, turn it off!” Han hollered in delight. A moment later, the indicator light switched off, and Han turned to Leia. “You can put the wire down, you’re done with it,” he said, still grinning.

“Did it work the way you wanted?”

Han shook his head in amazement. “Oh yeah, beautifully,” he said, putting the switch box down, as Chewie returned to the hold. “Hey, thanks. We’ve been wanting to redo those circuits for a few years but never had enough hands at the right time.”

Leia smiled. “Happy to help. Is there more to do?”

Han nodded. “A couple more phases. We can pick it up tomorrow. We should be able to wrap up way before we reach the fleet.”

Her stomach plummeted. 

Had tomorrow come so soon? Back to the Alliance fleet. Back to war. Back to expectations. Back to shoving down her own heartbreak so she could be strong for the beings that came to her with their own tears. Back to people keeping their distance from her when they no longer needed anything from her. Back to the continual reminders of loss. Back to people leaving. 

But the princess’s smile stayed put. “Very well.”

**2100 hours**

Chewie tossed Han a goodnight farewell as he left the galley. Han grunted a reply, then entered the galley to finish his own evening routine. It had been a good day and they had made some great progress on their repairs, but it had also been a long one, and he was ready to turn in.

He finished drying his dishes, then put them away, keeping one glass out. He had already filled it with water and begun to place it on the counter when he paused mid-motion. Why was he still doing this? 

\--||--

_...majestic snow-capped mountains stood watch over the grassy meadow below, peaks glowing warmly in the light of the setting sun… people gathered, happy and content… mother and father nearby… mother and father here, sitting at the dejarik table with her… with her and Han and Chewie… all five of them laughing, sorting through the piles of eating utensils and power tools heaped high on the table… Han reaching out to hand her a glass of water… her arms stretching out to take it… arrows of green exploding from her outstretched hands... the scene shattering into jagged, glittering shards, like pieces of a broken mirror, the fragments hurtling into the darkness of space, leaving her behind, screaming into the void…_

Leia sat bolt upright in a panic as the door burst open and Han rushed through the hatch. The noise and energy of his entrance only fed her disorientation and she recoiled, pulling herself back towards the head of the bunk and drawing her legs in close. 

Putting one hand up, palm facing her, he paused for a moment, sitting down at the far end of the bunk and giving her as much distance as possible. 

Her throat raw, she was reaching out to take the glass of water he was offering her when, in her half unconscious state, the images from her dream returned in full force, jumbling together and stopping her cold. If anyone got too close they would enter her nightmares. Like Eldera. Now Han and Chewie. If she reached out, as she had just seen in the horror of her dream, they would get hurt. 

If _she_ got too close... 

_...You could get burned… Don’t get too close…_

She looked at the floor, shaking her head, refusing the water, refusing everything.

“Leia?”

“Don’t. You shouldn’t… just go.”

“Hey, it’s all right. ‘s just a dream. Dreams happen.” 

Leia swallowed tightly. “Go.”

“Leia, you’re fine—”

“ _Just. Go._ ”

Giving her a look filled with worry, Han quietly left the room, the hatch closing behind him.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	11. The Princess and the Smuggler

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**Mission Day 11:  
Arrival at the Alliance Fleet**

****

****

**0830 hours**

Leia’s eyes fluttered open as Han’s voice rumbled through the closed bunkroom hatch.

“...those Ithorian pastries you like. Anyways, he made extra, if you want any. They’re in the galley.”

Glancing around she realized she had finally drifted off to sleep. The visions in her nightmare had haunted her, keeping her awake for most of the rest of the night. Even now, she could not shake the lingering sense of abject terror and the visions of pain and suffering coming to those who were close to her… and the fact that visions of _Han_ had joined the familiar visions of her family in this perpetually recurring torment was more than unnerving. Logically, she knew it had only been a dream and that giving too much weight to a dream was ridiculous. Ridiculous to think that harm might come to him or anyone else, simply because of her. And yet, knowing that they would arrive back to the fleet later that evening and would be, once again, thrust into the midst of war...

“Thank you,” she called simply. She had meant only to sound casual but stiff formality had taken hold of her words. The same formality held her voice captive and she said no more.

\--||--

“Thank you,” Han heard through the door, her tone startling him. 

He hated himself for it, but he had stayed awake most of the rest of the night worrying about her. Her nightmare this time had been particularly bad. Even Chewie had heard her, the echoes reverberating in the corridors of the ship giving even the battle-hardened Wookie an air of sadness that Han had rarely seen from him. 

But the coldness with which Leia had dismissed him... 

He was instantly back in the streets in Wellene, then at Eldera’s estate, memories flooding in of the cold and overwhelming luxury of the estate and the unfeeling mannerisms of the royal House protocol during that first day of discussions. Once again, he felt as if he was losing his bearings…

Han’s intake of breath sounded quick and sharp. Leia hadn’t needed him last night, and apparently she didn’t need him now. Fine. They were returning to her precious Alliance in about twelve hours. She’d have her things to do, and he’d have his. If she didn’t need him, that’s fine. He didn’t need her, either.

**1015 hours**

Han leaned back in his pilot’s chair, idly toggling an inactive switch as Chewie gazed out at the swirls of hyperspace. When their runs were going smoothly, this was usually the point in the journey when they would begin talking about landing, the logistics of delivering their cargo and even their plans after delivery and payment were completed.

Within the last half-hour, they had discussed their arrival at the rendezvous point with the Alliance fleet, and the possible security measures and backup plans they’d need in case the rendezvous point was compromised. They had discussed the timing of landing and the likely turnaround time until they received payment for their part of the mission. They had paused, however, when the conversation moved to what they would do after they had finished their job ferrying the princess. Silence stretched between them.

It was Chewie who finally decided to broach the topic. _[Cub, were you serious about wanting to stay with the Rebellion after our return?]_

Han put up a hand. “Whoa. I just said I want to stick around where there might be work. We’ll see what jobs they’ve got, then see what happens.”

Chewie looked at him pointedly. _[You know they do not have endless resources.]_

“Yeah, I know.” Han’s hand lowered. “But at least it’s not Tatooine. Seems like a safe enough place to stay off sensors for a while.”

_[Ironic.]_

Han snorted. “Ain’t it?”

In the quiet moments that followed, the soft sounds of approaching footsteps floated gently through the open cockpit door, the pilots turning in time to witness the approach of their passenger.

“Are you ready to continue the repairs?” Leia asked without preamble, her spine straight and her hands clasped low behind her back.

_What the..._

Han bristled. _No one_ was going to come aboard his ship and act like _they_ were in charge, especially when they were the ones who’d overslept and delayed the repairs they’d said they would help with, repairs they knew required them to be around—

“—You sure you’re up for it?” Han spat out.

“You’re the ones sitting here, are you not?”

Han ground his teeth. Who did she think she was, acting like he and Chewie were dragging their feet? But he held his tongue; they did need to finish what they had started. It was a bit late now but if they worked efficiently, they might be able to finish before arriving at the fleet and losing her help. Help they actually needed. 

Han looked over to Chewie—and was met with Chewie’s disbelieving stare aimed right back at him. What was _his_ problem?

“Sure, Your Worshipfulness,” he said, turning back to Leia. “Let’s get started.”

**1130 hours**

The two humans and the lone Wookiee sat on the floor amidst a jumble of stripped wires, loose caps, connectors, and discarded pieces of insta-meal packaging ( _just melt it and reshape it, and you’ve got custom made shielding that’s near as good as the 200 credit InSull-Eight brand stuff from Sullust_ ). To the untrained eye—likely some royal ones, too—it would have looked like an absolute mess. To Han’s eyes, it was beautifully ordered chaos.

“...need to take five pieces of wire, thread them through the channel splitter’s central port. Just cap off the ends like I showed you yesterday.”

Leia nodded, looking at the wires, but not at him. “Yes, of course. Shall I then proceed with assembling the other seven bundles?”

“Yeah.”

Chewie growled a question. 

“Nah,” Han replied, “she can use the crimpers. We can fuse the bi-valve switches while she’s bundling the transfers.” 

Leia clasped her hands primly in her lap. “If that is all, Captain, I shall get started so as not to delay your phase of the work.”

Han gritted his teeth. It was the third time she had called him “Captain” that morning, and the way she was dismissing him—and on his own gods-damned ship—what was _with_ her?

Han rose from his seat on the floor. “By all means, Your Highness.”

Leia glared at him, but she picked up her pieces without a word and began bundling the wires.

**1230 hours**

Han inspected the bundles Leia had assembled. They looked good, he decided, just like her work yesterday. She had an eye for detail and for precise work, he had to give her that. 

He was far less impressed with… well, with whatever it was that was going on with her today. Standing a few paces away, her hands were now clasped in front of her, as if she was ready to give a lecture. She was behaving so starkly different from the past several days. So distant... 

Whatever was going on, they needed to move on with things.

“These look good,” he told her. “They’re ready to be attached to the switches.”

“I am glad the work is satisfactory," she said stiffly, her only acknowledgement.

Han’s hands dropped. _Gods dammit._ “What’s going on with you?”

Leia’s eyes darted to his. “I beg your pardon?”

“What is up with you?” he repeated, his mouth scrunched up in annoyance. “You’re acting all…”

A look of warning entered her eyes. “... all _what_ , Captain?”

Han huffed. “That, that right there. _Captain_.”

“That is your title, is it not?”

“My _name_ is Han.”

“Thank you. I believe I was aware of that.”

Han’s nostrils flared. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on today, but the way you’re acting—”

Leia’s temper flashed hot. “How dare you presume to comment on the way I act. My—”

“—that’s not it, _Your Worshipfulness_ ,” he began, rolling his eyes. “Listen. Yesterday you were jokin’ around with us but today…” he stopped short. “Kriff, Leia. Did we do somethin’ to piss you off?”

Leia stared at him. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes… gears were turning and he couldn’t tell where they were going.

When she spoke at last, her tone was calm. “Neither you nor Chewie have done anything to cause me any displeasure. I am merely aware that the time until we return to the fleet is short, and the repairs left to complete are many. I—I only wish to remain focused on our tasks.”

One side of Han’s mouth scrunched up. “Yeah. Well, fine.” He looked away in frustration. “Just…” He turned and began to walk away as he threw up one hand in defeat. “Just take a break. I’ll go take care of these bundles. I’ll let you know when we’re at the next phase.” And with that he left the hold, Leia still standing at the table, alone.

\--||-- 

Han banged his hammer against the metal sheeting far harder than was necessary but the expenditure of energy and the resonant clang of metal against metal was the most satisfying sound he’d heard in awhile. That rock weighing in his gut had been getting to him since the early morning and so was this—this—this _princess_.

He just didn’t get it. Sure, she was grieving, and hells, she was doing one hell of a job making it through her days; he didn’t know whether to be worried or in awe of how she was able to carry on. And he got that these nightmares of hers were horrible, probably reliving the very experiences she never should have had in the first place. He even got that she was trying to keep it all contained, keep all those emotions manageable. He knew how hard all of that was, when those emotions didn’t get any outlet—

But he thought they had been getting along all right. He thought they had been developing a kind of trust. And yesterday—yesterday had been nice. They had worked together, the three of them, and eaten together and had a great time. She had laughed—

He thought she trusted him enough to know he wasn’t going to hurt her or anything when he came to check on her during her nightmares. But last night, the way she had acted—

A couple days ago, after they’d left the estate and had been traveling back to the Falcon, she’d been silent all day. Not in the morning with the others, of course, when everyone had been on their best behavior, but the rest of the day, when it had been just the two of them. Just a princess and a smuggler—

And now this cold formality. It might as well have been the first day of their trip to Dansend, when she had stayed in the bunkroom all day, not having any interactions with either Han or Chewie. She was polite enough, then and today, but so formal. So, so—

Ah, hells, who knew what this was. 

Han paused his hammering, letting out a hard breath. 

Maybe this was just how she was; pulling back and running away whenever someone starts to get close to her. Sure, she’d been fierce on the Death Star and laser sharp on this trip. But could he really say he knew her? Maybe he needed to stop expecting anything normal from her. Maybe _he’d_ been the one watching too many holovids, thinking he could be—what, exactly?

Looking at the hammer in his hands he resumed his task, shaping the metal sheet into place with a controlled amount of force. He felt bad for her, real bad. But if she didn’t want him around, that was fine. He wasn’t her healer, and he sure wasn’t...

Anyways. She’d be fine. She had Eldera and Advena and others, too. She had people on base. She had Luke; from what he’d seen of the two of them together, she seemed okay around him. She’d be fine…

Besides...

Pausing his hammering, he felt his jaw clench.

He had his own problems to deal with.

**1400 hours**

It hadn't taken Leia very long to realize that Han wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Recognizing the truth in Han’s accusations that her cold, aloof behavior today was at stark odds with the previous few days, she had retreated to the bunkroom feeling distinctly uneasy. It troubled her that he was so bothered by it. She hadn't intended to… _to piss him off_.

It also troubled her that she was aware of her behavior and yet couldn't seem to change it. She was normally so good around others, so adept at comporting herself in ways that could put them at ease, despite what she might be feeling about the situation. She knew how to handle herself, normally…

Though of course, “normal” no longer existed.

Reentering the main hold, her retrieved datapad in hand, she was determined to try and find a way through this strange and uncomfortable impasse when she saw Han standing behind some stacked crates, working in an access panel. The glance he gave her was brief, turning swiftly back to his task. 

Sitting at the dejarik table, she didn’t know what to do to bridge the gulf that had opened up between the two of them. But she did know she had promised to help. 

“I’m still here if you need that third set of hands,” she said, as she turned on her datapad.

**1600 hours**

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Han said. “That’s fine.”

Leia looked back to her connectors, all too aware of Han’s distant tone. For the past two hours she had been trying to let go of her formal bearing, but the grip her manners had on her words and actions was tight. Just as she would begin to relax, the imagery of her last nightmare would spring into mind, threatening to knock her down—and the manners would again tighten their chokehold. It was as if the stiffness of royal protocol was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. 

Glancing over at Han, still occupied in his task, she tried again to engage him in conversation. “Do you think we’ll be done before reaching the fleet?”

It was a question asked out of curiosity and a desire to see their work through to completion, knowing that her help was needed, but belatedly hearing the unintentional rebuke in her words she cringed: _this is less important than the fleet, are we almost finished?_

Something that Han had apparently heard, too. “Yeah, we’re almost done, just some cleanup to do,” he mumbled without turning to her. “You can stop if you need to get back to your reports.”

Leia shook her head. “No, that’s not… I just want to help finish the work we started. I would be more than happy to assist with the cleanup, Cap— _Han_ ,” she amended. 

“Sure,” he responded, his expression neutral.

She exhaled softly. She very much wanted to revive the quality of friendship they had enjoyed over the past several days. But she didn’t know how.

\--||--

“... I would be more than happy to assist with the cleanup, Cap— _Han_.”

His words earlier must have stuck with her and he could tell she was trying to restart a conversation, get back to being, well, _friendly_. But he wasn’t sure how.

This act of hers… it was a signifier of a status that he would never have and of a distance between them that seemed awfully wide. It was all right to hang out with _her_ , but hanging out with _royalty_? 

Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to stay around for very long.

“Sure,” he said simply.

**1900 hours**

Han and Leia sat across from each other at the dejarik table cleaning up. The going was slow: wires had been removed from leads in case they were needed and now they needed to be re-threaded into the leads. It was tedious work. 

“Yeah?” he said without looking up, suddenly aware that Leia was watching him.

Leia dipped her head. “It has been interesting to watch you work.” She paused. “You really know how to handle the Falcon,” she added quietly.

He stayed focused on his task, considering her comment. He could have teased her about watching him but it just didn’t seem worth it. “Not all pilots have the benefit of in-flight mech crews.”

He was met with silence. Fine. 

It was several minutes later when he thought he heard her speak again. 

“You know how to handle nightmares, too.”

Glancing up, he saw she had stopped her task and was staring resolutely at the table, neither avoiding nor seeking his gaze. She seemed stuck. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard her or only imagined it, the words had been so quiet. And yet, something deep within him stirred, some long-forgotten pain. 

“I’ve lost people, too,” he said, before he could stop himself.

Leia’s eyes flicked up and met his. A moment passed, two... then Han looked away. He didn’t like to talk about his life, especially his past, but he couldn’t take those words back now. He resumed his task but found his fingers were having trouble working properly. 

“Did you get to say goodbye?”

His hands stilled, his breath caught, and the pain in her voice was achingly familiar. Memories of his own losses began to spring up from places covered over ages ago. It had been awhile since he’d felt that pain, but it never truly went away...

Han’s gaze lost focus. He wanted to give her an answer that would make everything better. He wanted to ease that pain. He wanted to say it got better and that you learn to move on and that you have to think of the good times and whatever else might close her gaping wounds and heal her broken heart. 

He also knew that none of that would work. 

That there is no moving on; only moving forward. That there’s nothing that can make things suddenly better, no magic cure; only time can help, and a lot of it, enough to put some distance between you and your loss. Enough time to blur the edges of the pain when it comes back—and it will come back, sometimes when you least expect it...

His gaze refocused and he looked up, ready to give her his full attention. What he found in her expression surprised him, though. She wasn’t asking just to soothe her own heartbreak; she was asking about his, too. She was genuinely asking about _him_.

Her kindness obliterated his shielding. “No,” he answered softly.

They looked at each other for a long moment, anguish and honesty and vulnerability tenderly threading their hearts together. 

Eventually, the freshness of Leia’s devastating grief overwhelmed and broke the thread and she lowered her eyes, fully closing off from him. Then, rising silently from the table, she walked gracefully across the hold to the corridor, heading to the bunk room. 

Han watched as she moved out of sight, then let out a heavy sigh. 

Vacation was over.

**2200 hours**

The final few hours of their journey had been very quiet. Predictably, Leia had remained in the bunk room after leaving the hold while Han and Chewie had mostly remained in the cockpit, running through end-flight checklists and preparing to emerge into subspace. 

As the Falcon came out of hyperspace at the rendezvous point with the fleet—the final evacuation of Yavin IV having taken place while they were on Dansend—Leia joined Han and Chewie in the cockpit. Her additional security codes were not needed, however, and since the capital ship was on its night cycle with most personnel preparing for sleep, their landing was received without fanfare.

“Here we are, safe and sound” Han tossed over his shoulder as he and Chewie finished their shutdown procedures. “Ship’s secure,” he added, indicating it was safe for Leia to get up and move about, even disembark if she wanted. Leia only nodded, remaining seated, gazing out the viewport window at the minimal activity in the hangar bay.

The two pilots exchanged a quick glance. It was Han that spoke a moment later. 

“Hey Chewie, can you take care of the clamp switch back at engineering?” 

Leia spoke, however, before he could exit the cockpit. “Chewie, thank you for your help with this mission. It was vital that we had someone stay in Depryvet as backup; I’m glad it was you.” 

After Chewie exited the cockpit, quiet again filled the room as Han reviewed the shutdown procedures. At this point it was mostly for show, as he waited for the princess’s next move. 

“Han,” she began, but her voice hitched. Han turned halfway in his seat to face her and found a struggle playing out on her features. “Thank you,” she managed after a moment, “I—” Her words once again failing her, she gave up the fight and simply offered him a lingering, meaningful gaze. 

He understood: it was a thank you, for everything. For the conversations, the rescue in the garden, and for joining the discussions with Eldera. For watching silly programming at night, for late-night glasses of water during nightmares, for his honesty with her this afternoon, and… for everything. He nodded, and received a faint smile in return.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to the flight deck beyond the viewport. Though the ship was on nightshift, the landing bay was not devoid of activity. A few hoversleds carried parts and equipment between ships and a team of cleaning droids was systematically working their way down one side of the bay. A few technicians were gathered around the nose of an X-wing, sparks flying as they made repairs, and a deck officer was slowly walking from ship to ship, making the occasional note on their datapad. This was far from the idyllic and luxurious accommodations at Lady Eldera’s estate; even at night, it remained an active military ship.

And Leia was one of its leaders. As Han continued to watch, he could see the moment she gathered her resolve, straightening her shoulders and composing her expression. It made him want to yell. Before the window of opportunity closed, before that cool marble facade found purchase, before the last adornment of her invisible uniform was in place, he had to—

“You can come back here any time. Take off your uniform if you want to.”

Leia’s eyes snapped back to him and Han, wincing at the words that had tumbled out, threw his hands up in defense. “No, hey, no, that’s not—” He chuckled, embarrassed, before trying again. “I mean…” He gestured broadly in her direction. “I mean this… princess uniform, this thing, this… ” but her eyes only grew wider. 

He put his hands down and inhaled, serious, looking Leia straight in the eyes. 

“I mean, you don’t need to keep up appearances on this ship. No royal protocol, no need to watch your words.” He shrugged. “Just, you know, sit back, relax, watch some dumb holovids—I’ve got a box of some old vids in the back somewhere…” he trailed off. 

Her glare softened. 

He offered a gentle half-smile. “You know, if it pleases you.”

A slow, hesitant warmth began to bloom, peeking out from behind her royal facade. “That would be great.”

Smiling at each other for a heartbeat, Leia again took a deep breath, her polished armor falling into place, and then—Leia was gone.

In time, he glimpsed a flash of white outside the viewport. The smuggler watched as the princess floated across the hangar, her spine straight, head held high.

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


	12. Friends

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

**One Week Post Mission**

****

****

**2000 hours**

The Millennium Falcon sat on the hangar bay floor of the Alliance fleet capital ship, powered down and fully at rest. Activity in the hangar was at a low point as the daytime personnel had gone elsewhere for the night and the evening crew was already immersed in their shift. Two berths over, a couple of techs were working on an X-wing, the electrical hiss of their tools echoing in the cavernous space. 

It had been a week since they had returned from their mission to Dansend, and Han had not seen Leia since arriving on Home One, save for a few nods from across the mess hall or down ship corridors. Sure, he and Chewie had been away for a couple of days on a supply run, but he’d also been back for half the week. She hadn't followed up on his offer to take a break on the Falcon for a little while if she wanted to, either.

Not that he cared. 

Still, when he’d glimpsed said royal making her way through the hangar towards the Falcon, he could easily admit to himself that he was intrigued. He left the cockpit and met Leia at the bottom of the Falcon's ramp.

“Good evening, Your Highnessness,” Han said bowing low. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Very charming, Captain.” Leia replied, stopping just short of rolling her eyes. “I wanted to make sure you received the payment for our mission to Dansend.”

Han froze. No one had ever asked if he’d received payment. Ever. 

His brows furrowed. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Good.”

“Why?”

Leia was caught off guard by his suspiciousness. “I don’t mean to pry…” she began carefully, but Han offered nothing in return, so she forged ahead. “I understand you have a debt to a Hutt on Tatooine and I was curious why you haven’t left yet to settle things.”

 _What the..._ Han’s eyes narrowed. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not! It’s—there’s already a bounty on you. Shouldn’t you pay him back soon?”

Han searched her face, trying to figure out her game. Those easy days of casual conversation at Eldera’s estate seemed like a long time ago… but, nothing. It didn’t sound like she was working any angle. She just seemed curious, and maybe…

That possibility of something else made him uncomfortable. He waved his hand and looked lazily over to the techs working on the X-wing. “Nah, you’re right. I'll need to leave soon, but the payment for Dansend won’t cover it.”

Leia glanced over at the two techs, sorting through the unknown variables. “What about the payment for—" she began, continuing a heartbeat later "—for bringing the Death Star plans to the Rebellion?”

He noticed the break in her words but was struck more by the question itself: she didn’t know. How could she not know? Wasn’t she in tight with all the brass? He had begun to understand during their mission to Dansend just how hard she’d been hit by the loss of Alderaan, but this was something else. For her to be asking him about his payment… 

And she was still waiting for an answer, just standing there, her dark brown eyes looking up at him, expectantly. 

His heart started to race. It was one thing to have returned the payment but an entirely different thing to talk about it. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t look her in the eyes and admit it.

He inhaled sharply, glancing away dismissively. “Wasn’t enough.”

“I see,” she replied, concern creeping into her voice. Luke had told her what he knew of Han’s situation and of the reputation—and wrath—of the Hutt crime lord. But if these two payments hadn’t been enough to resolve his debt then Han’s situation was very serious indeed, and she wasn’t sure what could be done about it. 

Troubled, she sighed. “I’m sorry Han, we don’t have much.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Her features were etched with regret. “I’m sure the Alliance can help in some way, but I worry it might not be—”

“—No," he interrupted, crossing his arms. "I don’t need any help.”

“Han, I would just like to—”

“I said, _no_. This is _my_ problem. I don’t need pity. I can take care of it—”

“ _Pity!?_ ” Leia knew she should stay calm but really— “Han, I’m not taking pity on you! This is what people do when they care about their friends! They want to help!” 

Han fell silent, staring at her.

“What!?” she exclaimed, her frustration ratcheting up a few more notches.

“Friends, huh?” he answered flatly.

Leia’s mouth snapped shut. She knew it was foolish to get too close to people. They were at war and he didn’t care about the Rebellion anyways, and either of them at any time could—they were at war—

“Yes,” she said simply.

Neither of them able to look away, they were completely unaware that the echoes from the X-wing techs’s equipment had fallen silent. 

“Want to come inside?” Han blurted out.

Leia blinked and he cringed, immediately trying to explain himself. “Chewie and me were gonna watch an old holofilm, some adventure vid. It’s pretty bad but it’s good for a laugh.”

Han’s words to her the last time she had been on the Falcon came back to her: 

_...You don’t need to keep up appearances on this ship…_

_...No royal protocol…_

_…Just, you know, sit back, relax, watch some dumb holovids..._

She opened her mouth to say yes, but suddenly became highly aware of the silence in the hangar. Without turning her head, she glanced towards the X-wing, Han following suit, and found the techs watching them with great interest.

Leia closed her mouth and prepared to turn down his offer, when Han spoke again. “All right, I admit it,” he drawled. “I got an ulterior motive.”

Her eyes widened. If he was trying to dissuade the techs’ interest, _that_ was not going to help.

“Yeah,” Han continued, “I’m hoping to get a head start on tomorrow’s meeting about those weapons modifications. Got a few ideas but—” Han hollored up the ramp. “Hey, Chewie! Get down here!”

“Tomorrow’s meeting,” Leia repeated slowly, keeping her face neutral.

Han looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes as Chewie joined them on the ramp, greeting Leia with a nod.

“Hey, pal, Leia here might want to go over those ideas we had on the T4-23s. You still have the schematics handy?” 

_[What are you talking about?]_

Han managed to keep his eyes from rolling. “Great, yeah, just bring ‘em up and we’ll go over ‘em.”

Chewie looked to Leia, who was working to keep the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth from spreading further. He threw up a hand as he turned to go back up the ramp. _[Of course, Cub. I will play chaperone for the two of you.]_

“What!? That’s not—” but Han stopped himself before spoiling the game, calling back to his friend that "they're with the files on the 25s!”

Leia looked cautiously over at the X-wing techs; they had resumed their repairs and didn’t seem to be paying any more attention to the activities at the Falcon’s ramp. She let out a small sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing. She had been working too hard to establish a new role for herself within the Alliance chain of command; the effectiveness of her professional activities could be hindered if rumors regarding her _virtue_ were swirling about. 

More importantly, she was impressed with how well Han had handled the situation. His quick thinking provided a believable cover story and even Chewie had played along smoothly. She filed that away for any possible future mission planning.

She turned back to Han, finding him waiting for a reply. “Sure," she smiled, "I can give you some pointers on how to make your case. Dodonna is difficult but not unreasonable. Have you thought about…”

\--||--

“Captain Solo,” Leia said primly, “you completely misrepresented the situation.” She fixed him with her most stern expression. “That holovid was not ‘pretty bad.’ It was downright _awful_!”

Lounging lazily at the engineering station, Han could only laugh while Leia, sitting on the acceleration couch with her feet tucked comfortably beneath her, tried not to do the same. Chewie howled his own response, Han translating that “it’s one of our favorites; never disappoints!”

Leia could only laugh in reply. 

Later, when Chewie rose to take their now empty food and drink containers to the galley, Leia took it as her cue. She moved to leave the ship, Han walking with her all the way to the ramp.

Reaching the top, she suddenly looked shy. “Thank you,” she managed quietly.

“What for?”

She paused, then looked at him. “It _is_ good to take off the Princess uniform every now and then.”

“Hey,” he shrugged, smirking and tilting his head, “that’s what friends are for.”

Smiling her agreement, she nodded her farewell. He remained at the top of the ramp for a few moments longer, watching as she walked through the quiet hangar towards the crew quarters, before returning to join Chewie in the galley to finish cleaning up.

_[It was good to see the Princess laugh.]_

Han smiled. “Yeah, it sure was.”

_[She is a good friend.]_

Han’s smile faded, transforming into something more solemn. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.” 

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-

-::-==-::-==-::- _The End_ -::-==-::-==-::-

-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-==-::-


End file.
